


A Study in Trust

by philaetos



Series: Studies [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: A lot - Freeform, I’m really bad at tagging, M/M, Pride and Prejudice References, The Mage is the worst, and now it’s a mess, as usual, background deniall btw, baz and simon are uhaul lesbians, baz cries a lot too, baz explains to simon that bisexuality is a thing, because I love her, because boy does he need it, because it’s the og enemies to lovers and i just know baz would love pride and prejudice, daphne is here and she’s great, dev and niall also are good friends, dev and niall are actual characters!!!!, i can’t like baz i’m straight : a novel by simon snow, i’ll add tags as i go i guess, lucy’s ghost makes an apparition, maybe i should change the rating to explicit to be safe when i write said horny teenage boys, my poor lucy, no but really daphne is here, penny is a a good friend, simon cries a lot, simon’s horniness is basically the third main character, simon’s magic being fucked up, snow can’t like me he’s straight : the prequel by baz pitch, the boys share magic, their relationship evolves way too fast, this all started as a ‘what if i reversed the visitation situation’, warning : horny teenage boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 140,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philaetos/pseuds/philaetos
Summary: Simon is on a mysterious mission for the Mage as the Veil opens, so when his mother’s ghost visits him, it’s Baz she meets[the title was changed, it used to be Rosebud Boy]
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Studies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010952
Comments: 450
Kudos: 446





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> If you’re reading this, first of all, thank you for clicking on my fanfic! Second of all, I hope you’ll like it ^^  
> This is the first long fanfic I’ve written in years, and the first long fanfic I write in english, so this is a bit exciting for me, but also very scary  
> Normally, I’ll be updating daily

**Baz**

It’s the middle of the night, and I can’t sleep. I’m lying awake, thinking about the boy that should be sleeping on the bed in front of mine, but isn’t.

Snow didn’t show up this year. Or more accurately, he came -I know he did, one of those tracksuits he always wears on the first day before he puts on his uniform is on his bed- and then left. On a mission for the Mage, without a doubt. Snow never leaves the school unless he’s doing his bastard of a mentor’s bidding.

It never lasts that long, though. Usually, Snow goes missing for a day or two, and then spends a couple of days in the infirmary to recover, unless he decides to be particularly careless and just comes back to the room to collapse on his bed, covered in blood -thankfully not his own. However, now it’s been three weeks since the term started and he isn’t back.

I don’t want to think about the fact that he might never come back.

No.

If he was dead I would know it.

He’s the sun. The world would go dark if Simon Snow wasn’t here to illuminate it with his light.

So he must still be alive. He _has_ to be alive. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s well and it’s driving me mad. I need to know if he’s okay. Every second I spend without knowing where he is or how he’s doing is torture. I already spent an entire summer unaware of his whereabouts or wellbeing, I’m not sure I can handle it much longer.

I need him to come back soon before I lose my mind. 

I shift in my bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep, even though the problem is obviously not with how I’m lying. I end up on my side, facing his bed. It’s how I fall asleep most days, when Snow’s here, after getting my fill of his bronze curls and the tranquil way his shoulders rise and fall as he breathes. 

Except tonight, instead of seeing him curled up in a ball, I see a woman.

Merlin and fucking Morgana.

I wished for a Visitation since I arrived at Watford this year, since I knew the Veil was lifting. Every day, I hoped my mother would come to me and I’d finally get a chance to talk to her. I eventually lost hope. The Veil is closing tonight, if my mum was to come, she would have already. I know I shouldn’t be so bitter about it, that I should be glad she left with a peaceful conscience, but I can’t help being sad that I didn’t get to have at least one conversation with her.

And now I’m having a Visitation and it’s _not_ my mother. 

The woman standing next to Snow’s bed looks awfully young, probably no more than five years older than I am, she has messy curls like Snow’s -Crowley, get him out of my head, there’s a fucking ghost in the room and I still manage to think about him- and she looks frail, so frail. Her arms are too thin and I can see the shape of her backbone against the back of her dress. “Simon,” she whispers.

I think I misheard, but she says it again, her translucent hand stroking his pillow. “My Simon, my rosebud boy.”

Could she be…? 

But Snow doesn’t even know his parents…

“Miss?” I say, hesitation in my voice as I sit up in my bed. If she’s here for Snow, she probably don’t want to talk to me, but Snow’s not here, and I can’t say I’m not curious about this woman.

She turns to me immediately, her eyes wide. Disappointment flashes in them when she sees me. She probably thought it was Snow calling her. “You’re not Simon,” she says.

“I’m his roommate. Sn… Simon isn’t here at the moment.” Sadness is written all over her face. It’s heartbreaking. She looks so much like him. Or, rather, he looks like her I suppose. “But you can tell me what you wanted to tell him! I’ll pass it onto him.”

It makes her smile. Crowley, it’s so much like Snow’s smile. It breaks my heart to see how alike they are. And it’s so unfair that I’m the one seeing it and not Snow. 

“You’re right! That’s a good idea,” the woman says. “Tell him his mother loves him, that’s the most important thing.” So she really _is_ , Snow’s mother, there’s no more doubt now. “And tell him that I miss him and that I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with him.” She’s starting to fade already. It takes a lot of effort for a ghost to stay on this side of the Veil. “Give him this for me.” 

Give him what? 

She walks towards me, and puts her hands on my cheeks. It’s cold, colder than I am, and a little bit damp, like mist. Then it’s her lips that are on me, kissing my forehead tenderly. It’s a soft, motherly gesture. Daphne often kisses the girls like that. I suppose that’s what the woman wants me to give Snow. I feel a lump in my throat. If Snow was here, he would have gotten a forehead kiss from his mother. It would have probably meant the world to him. I’m so angry he didn’t get to experience that.

I know it’d mean the world to me to feel _my_ mother kissing me, even if she was just a ghost. 

She’s really fading now, I can barely see her even though she’s right in front of me.”Oh, and tell him to tell his father I’m not angry. I wanted our little boy as much as he did.” Her voice is barely a whisper at the end of her sentence. I think that if I were not a vampire, I would not have heard her.

His father? Does she think Snow knows his father? Should he know his father? Was he present in baby Snow’s life before whatever happened that made him an orphan happened?

It’s so confusing, there’s too much information being thrown at me, and not enough at the same time. Crowley, I don’t even know the woman’s name!

Her name… “Miss, what’s your name!” I shout. I can’t believe I didn’t think about asking that sooner. 

I can still feel her presence but not see her. I hope it’s enough for her to be able to answer. Snow might not have a chance to see his mother, but he at least deserves to know her name, to have _something._

_Lucy._

The word rings in my head more than I really hear it.

And then she’s gone. 

I lie back down, throwing the covers over me up to my chin.

What the fuck just happened.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz is confused about Lucy’s Visitation  
> Simon finally comes back to Watford  
> They fight, because they’re idiots

**Baz**

I still can’t quite believe what happened last night was real. 

A ghost visited me -no, visited Snow. The ghost of his mum. And he missed it because of the Mage.

I’ve never been angrier at that piece of shit for using Simon as his personal little soldier.

To make it all worse, Snow doesn’t seem to be back. The sun is already high in the sky -it’s Saturday, I can oversleep- and Snow’s side of the room is still desperately clean and tidy, save for his trousers. If he was back, there’d be much more than just a tracksuit. I don’t think Snow can physically exist in an environment that doesn’t have textbooks and clothes scattered everywhere. It usually pisses me off, but now I miss even his mess. 

I’d give anything to trip on one of his bloody shoes if it means I know he’s here and safe.

**…**

I go to the dining hall for lunch. I usually don’t go down there since I can ask Cook Pritchard for food to take to my room, but since Snow is missing, I check the dining hall. If he was here, he’d be stuffing his face with roast beef and scones.

But he isn’t. Bunce is alone at the table they always occupy, eating whatever dish is being served today. She looks worse and worse as days go by and Snow doesn’t come back, I can’t help but notice. 

I can’t really blame her. 

I feel like I’m stuck in a room, the walls getting closer and closer to me the more days I spend without Snow. I’m afraid if he doesn’t come back soon, they’re going to crush me.

I walk in Dev and Niall’s direction, joining them around the table without taking a plate. Niall gives me a concerned look, and hands me a yoghurt. “I know you don’t like eating in public, but you look miserable.”

“I’m fine, Niall.”

“No you’re not. Come on, eat it. It’s chocolate flavoured, you love chocolate.”

“I don’t have a spoon.”

“Take mine.” He throws it at me across the table. I catch it before it can fall.

“Just eat the bloody yoghurt, Baz. You not taking care of yourself isn’t going to bring Snow back faster,” Dev comments after swallowing a bite of his food, waving his fork at me.

I glare at him. He’s not impressed.

“You don’t scare me. And you know I’m right.”

Of course he is. So I open the yoghurt, and start eating. At least Niall had the decency not to give me food that would make my fangs pop out.

There’s no point in keeping on being stubborn, Niall and Dev -especially Niall, Dev mostly just throws shit at me- can get particularly annoying when they decide to take care of me. The last time they did it was in fifth year, when my lust for blood and Simon Snow got the worse of me. They kept me away from my room for a week -Snow did not appreciate, he probably thought I was plotting his demise- forcing me to eat three meals a day, drink blood as regularly as I need, don’t drink any alcohol, and sleep at a decent hour. Niall even resorted to sleeping on the floor to guilt trip me into sleeping by giving me his bed. 

I don’t particularly want to reiterate that experience.

“Good boy,” Dev says, patting my hair when I put down the empty pot and the spoon.

If I ever decide to feed off people, I’m draining him first.

I’m about to answer something biting, but the doors bursting open stop me.

I turn around.

And then I see him.

**…**

**Simon**

I didn’t mean to rip the doors of their hinges, ok? That’s just how my magic works. It’s always over the top, always too much, so when I tried to spell the doors open, it kind of broke them.

Any mage with magic that works normally could fix them in a matter of seconds anyway.

Everyone turns at me -of course they do I just destroyed the fucking doors- but my eyes are only on one person : Penny.

She practically jumps from her chair and runs to me in a very un-Penny like way. She’s usually much more reserved but I guess that me being missing for three weeks made her emotional. 

She crushes me against her chest, her hair in my face. “Never do that ever again, Simon Snow,” she says, the words muffled by my jumper. “I was worried sick. I thought the Humdrum had you, that he had…”

She doesn’t finish, but even I can guess what she means to say. That he had killed me.

“I’m sorry. The Mage said I couldn’t contact anyone.”

“Of course he did,” she mumbles as she moves back. “So you were on a mission?”

“Yes. Can we not talk about it now? I’d rather eat, I’m famished.”

She rolls her eyes. “Simon, you’re always famished.” But she leads me to our table anyways, spelling some food -roast beef and mashed potatoes, bless her- inside an empty plate for me.

I don’t like when she does that, it makes the texture all strange, but I came in late so the food isn’t being served anymore. “Have you gone to the infirmary?

“Don’t need to. The Mage healed me.”

Because he said I didn’t deserve a few days of rest in the infirmary after pathetically failing my mission, but I’m not about to tell Penny that. I don’t want to hear her rant about the Mage right now.

She gives me a surprised look, but says nothing and lets me eat. 

I’m so hungry I gulp down my food before she can even finish hers, and her plate was already more than half empty when I arrived. 

“One day you’re going to get sick, eating so quickly.”

“Hasn’t happened yet,” I shrug.

“And you haven’t died yet but that doesn’t mean you’re immortal.”

“You never know.” 

I give her a smile, and she smiles back. “Do you think we could go to your room after lunch? To talk about your mission.”

Of course she wasn’t going to drop it. I wish she would, but she’s Penelope Bunce. She hates being unaware of stuff.

“I… I’m rather tired. I’d prefer taking a nap, if you don’t mind. Baz has football practice in the afternoon, I’ll be able to have some peace.”

“It took you exactly a quarter of an hour to mention Baz for the first time. Congrats, Simon, you’re getting better.”

“Come on, I don’t talk about him that much.”

“Because of the quota!”

Her stupid quota.

Penny said that she was tired of hearing me talk about Baz all the time -which isn’t even true, he’s not _all_ I talk about- so she set a quote. I’m not allowed to talk about him for more than 10% of our conversations, which roughly means she won’t let me say more than two or three sentences with his name in them.

“Anyway, I’m going to go now before I fall asleep on my plate,” I tell her with a smile as I get up.

“See you at dinner?”

“Yeah. Bye Pen.”

I glance at Baz on my way out, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s talking to Dev and Niall, the three of them leaning forward slightly. I’m sure he’s plotting.

Crowley I just got back, can’t he give me a rest.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t go back to my room between lunch and football practice. I wouldn’t be able to leave if I saw Simon there, and Dev would come and drag me to practice himself if I missed it. I take a shower in the changing room, something I never do, but I don’t want to lock myself in the ensuite immediately after returning to my room ; I want to be with Snow. I need it. To see that he’s really here, that the boy I saw on the dining hall wasn’t just an hallucination my worried, lovestruck brain created. 

I’m afraid to open the door.

I’m not sure what I’ll do if he was indeed an hallucination. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m so fucking terrified. 

Eventually, I gather the courage to come in. My eyes immediately fly to Snow’s bed, and I let out a relieved sigh when I see him there, sleeping in a tight ball like he always does. It’s like all this tension from the last weeks just left me. 

Simon Snow is back.

Simon Snow is alive, and breathing. Simon Snow is in the room, our room, and I can’t smell his blood any more than usual, so he mustn't have any unhealed injury.

This is a miracle.

I’ve never been so fucking glad to see him in my entire life, and I’ve been head over heels for him for years.

I’m never letting him out of my sight ever again. I might imitate his fifth-year behaviour and stalk him.

I try to be discreet as I close the door and put my football kit back in its place ; if he’s sleeping in the middle of the afternoon, he really must be exhausted. He always is after his missions. Once he slept for 20 hours. 

I sit on my bed, and pick up a book that I open on my lap. I don’t intend to read it, but I could pretend to if Snow wakes up and catches me staring.

I know the whole watching him sleep is creepy, but I’m a vampire, I’m allowed to be creepy.

The sun is starting to set when I hear the telltale change in Snow’s breathing. He’s waking up. I look down at my book, which happens to be a rather tedious task when all my eyes want to be on is Simon Snow, who’s currently stretching in his bed. He lets out a little moan, and I thank all the gods I know and don’t believe in that I can’t blush when I haven’t fed in a while.

What I would give to be what draws moans out of him.

Not the right time for that, Basil.

“Got your beauty sleep, Snow?” I ask, giving him a bored look.

He’s still lying, but not curled up anymore. He tries to glare at me, but his eyes are still misty with sleep and he has red marks from his pillow on his cheek. He’s adorable. “I don’t want to fight now,” he groans.

“I’m not fighting.” I’m really not. “I just asked you a question.”

He doesn’t answer. He simply puts his arm over his eyes, and pretends I don’t exist.

It shouldn’t hurt that much, but I went three weeks without having him in the room, I crave his attention. So I decide to do what I do best ; be an arsehole to him.

I put my book down, and move until I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. “So, how were your three extra weeks of holidays?”

“Baz, just do your thing and leave me alone.” He sounds strange. I’ve never heard this particular emotion in his voice.

So naturally, I keep pushing him.

“I’m just wondering why the Chosen One is allowed to miss three weeks of school and come back as if nothing happened.”

The air in the room gets heavier, like when it’s damp. It’s a little bit suffocating.

Snow’s magic.

He’s so easy to rile up.

“Baz, please.”

Please? I don’t think he’s ever said please to me. 

The tips of his fingers are glowing a little bit. They do that sometimes, when his magic gets too much but he tries to keep it all inside. 

His arm is still thrown over his eyes.

“Were you off killing things for the Mage again? What was it this time?”

Apparently that’s the last straw for Snow.

He’s on his feet in a blink of the eyes, his face flush, his eyes full of anger and… tears?

Maybe I went too far. Snow hasn’t cried in front of me since second year.

“Jesus Christ, Baz will you shut up?! Is it so fucking hard to leave me alone?!”

And with that, he rushes to the ensuite, slamming the door as he does.

I definitely went too far.

Fuck.

**…**

**Simon**

What a fucking prick!

I mean, what was I expecting, it’s Baz, of course he was going to get on my nerves. That’s all he ever does. But fuck, I just wish he’d stop for once.

My whole body’s trembling now. I try to control myself in the room not to show Baz how upset I was, but now I’m alone and I break. Tears roll down my cheeks uncontrollably and I have to grip the counter not to fall.

That mission was so fucking worse than any other I’ve had before.

My magic is getting out of hands too. The whole room smells of smoke.

Smoke… It’s so similar to when… to when she…

I feel bile rise in my throat. 

Before I know it, I’m bent over the toilet seat, throwing my guts up.

It was so fucking awful.

**…**

**Baz**

Not long after Snow went to the bathroom, I hear retching. 

It should gross me out but the only thing I can feel is guilt. Whatever his mission was, it was really hard on him and instead of giving him a rest I made it worse.

Crowley, I hate myself.

I don’t think Snow ever had such a violent reaction, though, admittedly, I wasn’t with him every time he came back, as much as I wanted to be. 

Maybe I should check on him.

No. That’s a stupid idea. He hates me. And it’s my fault.

But he’s vomiting and he was almost crying before he left. He shouldn’t be alone, even if the person he’s with is his mean vampire roommate.

Before I can change my mind, I go knock on the door leading to our bathroom. “Snow, I’m coming in.”

The only answer I get is more retching. I take a deep breath before I open the door, and freeze in place when I see him on his knees, gripping the toilet seat so tightly I’m afraid he might break it. 

He’s sobbing in between coughs and it’s the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard. I want to hold him. To tell him that I’m sorry and that he’ll be okay. To promise I won’t let anyone hurt him ever again. 

But I can’t do that, not now. What I can do, is sit next to him, and rub circles on his back in a way I hope is comforting.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz is with me. Baz came inside the en suite when he heard me throwing up, and now he’s trying to comfort me, I think? His hand is cold, even over my shirt, but it’s not unpleasant. I think I hear him whisper something, but I can’t make out what. 

I feel warmth course through me, like flames, and then my stomach seems to decide to stop emptying itself.

“You… you cast a spell on me?”

I don’t know if I’m angry that he used magic on me without my consent or relieved by the effects of his spell.

“Would you rather keep vomiting?” he asks as he stands up, flushing the toilet without looking. 

“Why did you come here in the first place? Shouldn’t you be relishing in my suffering?” 

The throwing up has stopped, but not the crying, nor the trembling. I hate it. I hate that Baz is seeing me like that. He’s probably having a field day.

**…**

**Baz**

He may not be vomiting anymore, but his arms are shaking, still holding onto the seat, and I can still hear those bloody sobs. I hate it. I hate that he’s in such pain.

I could answer something insulting to him, it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t bring myself to hurt him more. 

“I don’t like seeing you suffer.”

It’s probably the truest thing I’ve told Snow in years. It’s terrifying. He takes a few seconds to breathe deeply, until he stops trembling and he’s only crying, not sobbing anymore. That’s when he straightens his posture, standing up in front of me. His cheeks are red, so are his running nose and the veins in his eyes. He’s got tears, that he wipes away with his sleeve, rolling all the way down to his chin.

I want to destroy everything and everyone that ever dared hurting this boy. Me included.

“You’ve intentionally provoked me every time we had a conversation since we met. I think you _do_ like seeing me suffer, Baz.”

Well, I deserve that I suppose. I would like to say it again, until he believes it, but it won’t solve anything, not now. He doesn’t need me to say anything right now. However, I think he might need me to listen. “What happened? On your mission. I’m not asking that to upset you, I just think that considering the state of distress it put you in, you probably need to talk about it, and it might be easier to talk about it with me instead of Bunce. I know it’s hard to talk about difficult things to people we love.”

And Snow doesn’t love me. And he doesn’t know I love him, so he can’t worry about his pain affecting me the same way he’d fear worrying Bunce. 

He looks at me with surprise written all over his features. He quickly collects himself, though. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t want to talk about it. Not to you, not to Penny, not to anyone.”

He sounds so miserable when he says it, so tired. 

Not for the first time, I wish I hadn’t been so awful to him, I wish we’d become friends. If we were friends, it’d be okay for me to hug him. But we’re not, and it’s not, so I don’t. Instead I let him walk past me, and leave the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ^^


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon is Not Feeling Well because of his mission  
> He has an important talk with Agatha  
> Dev and Niall make an appearance, Baz gets drunk

**Simon**

In a very Baz-like fashion, I go hide in the Catacombs. 

Honestly I don’t understand why he even comes there -except to drain the rats- it’s freezing, and wherever you are you’re surrounded by skeletons. It’s honestly creepy. But Baz is kind of creepy too, so I suppose it doesn’t bother him that much.

I should have found my own hiding spot, I really don’t like it here, but I don’t want to see Baz, everything that just happened in my and his room is too confusing. Baz making me mad is normal. Baz rubbing my back and casting a spell on me to heal me isn’t normal. Baz telling me he doesn’t like seeing me suffer isn’t normal. Baz giving me his shoulder to cry on isn’t normal. 

It’s surreal.

That, on top of everything that happened before, with the Mage, it’s just too much. I need some time alone, to think, and maybe cry some more.

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

I’m more the type not to think, but I think that if I try to pretend that all of that didn’t happen, I’ll explode. Penny says it’s not good to keep everything inside, and Penny is always right.

I let my head rest against the stone wall and close my eyes. Immediately, flashes of the last three weeks appear in my mind. My crappy hotel room, with its old, faded wallpaper, that the Mage chose specifically because it was close to the house with the flowery curtains. Sharp fangs sinking into soft flesh, lips painted red. A child putting his arms around his mother’s neck, laughing. The creatures I killed, excuses to avoid my main mission. The disappointment in the Mage’s eyes. And then… And then the fire.

That bloody fucking fire.

I don’t think I could ever forget it. 

I don’t think the lump in my throat when I think about it will ever leave me.

**…**

My stomach gurgles, so I assume it’s dinner time. 

I don’t really want to go. I don’t want to do anything except lie there, letting the guilt eat me away. I deserve it. But Penny will worry if I don’t show up, and I’ve already worried her enough.

It really mustn't be easy being my friend, I don’t know how she does it. 

I stand up from where I’ve been sitting for what feels like hours, my legs sore and my butt completely frozen. Yeah, the Catacombs really weren’t a great idea.

I shake my legs a little to regain feeling in them, and then I walk back to the dinning hall. It’s so bloody cold in the Catacombs that it’s hotter outside. I can’t believe Baz hasn’t completely frozen, with all the time he spends there at night and his low -or lack of?- body heat.

I have to stop thinking about Baz.

When I reach our usual table, I see that Penny has taken me a plate, full of hot food. I also notice that she hasn’t started eating hers, probably waiting for me. 

And last but not least, I notice that Agatha is here. Merlin, I had forgotten about Agatha.

I’m the worst boyfriend.

When I take my seat, she puts her hand on mine. “You’re back.”

“I am. I’m happy to see you,” I tell her with a smile.

She smiles back, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It often doesn’t.

I wish I could make Agatha happier. I wish I _knew_ how to make her happier. 

“Are you feeling better? Did you sleep well?” Penny asks me, ending the awkward silence between Agatha and I.

Thank Merlin for this girl. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I slept late, though, I don’t know how I’m going to fall asleep at a decent hour tonight.”

“At least you got some sleep, that’s good. You looked really tired when you came back. I wish the Mage would stop sending you on those missions.”

I wince. Here it is. Penny has become more openly critical of the Mage since last year. She thinks he exploits me. It’s not true, I simply help. It’s the least I can do, after he rescued me from the care homes and took me to Watford. I’d be living a miserable, lonely existence if not for the Mage. So the missions really aren’t a big deal.

Usually.

“He needs me,” is all I say, with a shrug.

“He has his Men. He could ask them to do his dirty work.”

“Look, Penny, I don’t want to talk about that, okay?”

“You don’t want to talk about your mission, you don’t want to talk about the Mage, what do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about the classes I missed.”

“You don’t care about classes. You’re going to graduate even if your results are mediocre because the Mage won’t let the teachers fail you and you know it.”

I flush. That much is true. The Mage can’t have the Chosen One and his Heir fail his year, so I’ve always been advantaged. That doesn’t mean I don’t work ; but even when I do work, it’s barely average, no matter how hard I try. It’s irritating, really, especially since I’m hanging out with Penny and living with Baz who both are the smartest people in our year, in Watford, I’d even say.

“I do care. I missed a lot. What interesting things did you learn?”

And just like that, she goes on a rant. 

Get her to talk about magic, and Penelope Bunce won’t shut up for hours.

It’s exactly what I need right now. 

So I listen to her, while eating my food and catching glimpses of Agatha a couple of times. She doesn’t look sad, but she doesn’t look happy either. 

I think I should break up with her. It’s a bit cruel, because it’s not her fault I’m a bad boyfriend, but she isn’t happy and I hate it. Maybe another bloke would treat her better. I’ve seen her looking at Baz often, last year…

The thought makes my blood boil. Of course, even my girlfriend would want _Baz_. He’s perfect. He’s got good manners, like her, he’s polite when he has to be -he isn’t around me, though- he gets amazing grades, and he’s so bloody fit it’s irritating. I’ve seen his abs a couple of times when he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face when playing football, and Crowley, it shouldn't be allowed to have a body like his. I can see why Agatha would prefer him.

“Agatha, can we talk?” I ask her as she stands up to go back to her room, grabbing her wrist. 

Penny gives me a puzzled look I pretend to ignore.

“Yes, sure,” Agatha says, her golden eyebrows a little bit furrowed but her voice still as soft as usual.

I let go of her arm to hold her hand, leading her outside. I went until we’re far enough from the room not to be heard by eavesdroppers, only then do I stop holding her hand to stand in front of her.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Don’t take it personally, but I think we should break up,” I blurt out.

I should let my brain connect with my mouth before I talk sometimes. 

“Break up?” she says with wide eyes. “Oh Simon, that’s… that’s a good idea. It’s such a relief, to be completely honest with you. I love you Simon, but not like that.”

Well, it’s not like I expected her to take it badly, but I didn’t expect it to go so well either. I’m glad though. “Friends then?” I tell her, offering her my hand.

She smiles, a true smile this time. “Yes, Simon. Friends.” But instead of taking my hand, she pulls me into a hug. We haven’t hugged in months. It feels good. I really like hugs, but Penny and I almost never hug, and Agatha and I rarely ever did despite being boyfriend and girlfriend. 

When she unwraps her arms, from around me, I ask her “I have a question though…”

“Go on.”

“Are you… Do you like Baz?”

There’s a pink tint on her cheeks. “I… I wouldn’t say that I like him, not really, it’s more a fantasy, you know? No! No, not that kind of fantasy Simon!” We both blush. “It’s more that I like the idea of what dating Basil would be. Adventure. Breaking the rules. Not doing what my parents expect me to do. But I don’t like _him_.”

It doesn’t make much sense, but it sounds like something Penny once said about Agatha and I. She said that I liked the idea of having a girlfriend more than I liked Agatha herself.

Nonetheless, I nod. “Well, just making sure I'm not going to catch you snogging my roommate unexpectedly, you know.”

A little laugh escapes her lips, high and musical like a Disney princess’s. “Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen. I don’t think Basil would be interested, anyway.”

“Why? You’re the prettiest girl in school! Baz should be honoured if you wanted to date him!” 

“Oh, Simon,” she says with that voice and those eyes people have when they know that they know more than I do. It makes me feel stupid, I hate it.

Even more if it’s about this. I know Baz better than everyone else here!

“I’m going to go to my room, now, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Good night Aggie.”

“Good night, Simon.”

As she leaves, I feel a weight lift off my chest. I didn’t realize how much mine and Agatha’s relationship felt like a burden until now. 

I’m glad I decided to end it. It was the right decision.

Maybe that’s how I can make Agatha truly happy, by letting her go.

**…**

When I enter my room, I immediately notice that Baz isn’t here. Good. I didn’t feel like dealing with him now, especially not this strange version of Baz from earlier, in the bathroom. I still can’t believe Baz acted like that towards me, he was so… caring. Is this how he treats people who are not me, people he likes? I mean, he has friends, so I suppose he must be a decent person, sometimes. 

If only he could be decent to _me_. It would make my life easier. 

How stupid an idea that is. As if Baz would ever not be a prick to me. His earlier behaviour was probably just due to the fact that it bothered him hearing me vomit, nothing more.

But then, why would he have rubbed my back? And said those things after?

It’s better not to dwell on that. Trying to understand the way Baz acts and thinks usually gives me a headache. He’s a mystery, a riddle I am yet to solve. 

**…**

**Baz**

I decide to ask Dev and Niall if I can sleep on their floor. Snow wants peace, I should give him some. If I can’t help him, not tormenting him with my sole presence in the room is the least I can do for him.

So after draining a couple of rats, I go back to Mummers, but not to the top of the tower. Apparently, my demon of a cousin has decided that me sleeping over with them on a Saturday night means that we’re having a party. There are just three of us, and twice the amount of bottles of alcohol, which is a bit pathetic, but I don’t care. It’s been forever since I last spent the evening with them.

Niall looks like he disapproves of the alcohol, he’s eying the bottles as if he's going to make them disappear if he stares long enough, and from the look of it, Dev and him already had a fight about it since they’re sitting on their own beds and not on the same one.

“Don’t mind Niall, he’s being a killjoy,” Dev says when I sit next to him, confirming my thoughts.

“We don’t need alcohol to have fun,” Niall mumbles. 

“Don’t drink then. Baz, vodka I presume?” He’s already handing me the open bottle. It doesn’t give me a glass, we both know I won’t need it.

“You know me so well.”

“That’s what family’s for,” he laughs as he clasp my shoulder.

“Do you two plan on doing something tonight instead of just getting drunk or what? Because if you’re not, tell me now so that I can cast a silenting spell not to hear your fucking noise.”

Dev rolls his eyes, a cheeky grin on his lips. He takes a big mouthful of whiskey, before getting out of his bed and crawling on Niall’s until his hands are on either sides of his head against the hall. “You’re so cute when you’re sulking.”

And then they’re kissing. Aleister Crowley, it was much more manageable to be in their room when they were still pining over each other. They’re insufferable now that they finally admitted they were in love, both to themselves and to the other.

No, I’m not being bitter. No one likes being the third-wheel, no matter their own romantic situation. But it’s true that maybe, if I wasn’t so desperately in love with a boy who’ll never love me back, it wouldn’t be so irritating to see them tumble around being happy boyfriends. 

“Hey! I didn’t came here to watch you snog!” I tell them, throwing Dev’s pillow at them. 

It hits my cousin in the back of the head as he pulls back from Niall to give me one of his smirks that are much too similar to mine. “A jealous, frustrated bastard is what you are.” He pecks Niall on the lips one last time before moving to sit next to him. 

He doesn’t ask me to throw him one of the bottles.

“So, avoiding Snow tonight? You’ve been talking about him nonstop for weeks because he was missing and now that he’s back, you don’t even go to your room? That’s ridiculous, you do know that, mate,” he says.

“First of all, I didn’t talk about him nonstop…”

“Yes you did,” they both interrupt me at the same time, which makes them laugh. 

“Anyway. I don’t know what that fascist areshole made him do this time, but Snow is really not well. I think he had some sort of panic attack earlier after we… talked.”

“By ‘talk’ you mean you insulted him and he was a stuttering mess, right?” Niall smiles.

“Not really, but kind of. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about Snow,” I mumble before raising the bottle to my lips.

“Didn’t you? That’s a first.”

I ignore him in favour of closing my eyes and letting the alcohol burn my throat. I’ve always been drawn to fire, and it’s a good kind of burn. 

**…**

**Simon**

It’s 2 in the morning, and Baz isn’t back.

As I expected, I can’t sleep, not after the long nap I took, which is how I can even notice that Baz doesn’t come back. After 7 years of living with him, I know his routine. He comes back to the room after dinner, until he sneaks out when I take my shower at 10. He hides in the Catacombs for an hour and half, sometimes two, and then goes to bed. 

So he should have been back for two hours now, and he isn’t. What the fuck is he doing?

Baz is the most organized person ever, he never changes his habits, even the smallest things like the time he wakes up at -7 on school days to have 45 minutes to get ready before going to class, since he skips breakfast- or how he makes his bed -he puts the pillow away, tucks the bottom of the blanket under the bottom part of his mattress, leaving the side of the blanket hanging untucked, and then he puts the pillow half over the blanket and half against the headboard, patting it twice after setting it in place. If he isn’t following his routine, it’s because something happened.

And I can’t sleep anyway, so why should I stay here wondering what’s wrong when I can go and see for myself. 

So I get out of bed, slipping on my shoes and I head to what seems to be Baz’s favourite place in school ; the Catacombs.

It’s freezing outside, and I didn’t think about taking a coat, but I don’t want to go back to my room, those stairs are hell on earth, especially so late at night when you can’t use magic to create some light. Once I get inside the Catacombs, it’s even colder. Thankfully though, it isn’t dark. The candles here have been spelled to burn forever. I walk around the entirety of the Catacombs, from Le Tombeau des Enfants to his mother’s grave. I know he comes there sometimes and talks to her. I didn’t mean to see that, but once, when I was looking for him in fifth year, I saw him. I felt terrible, intruding on something as private as him ranting to his mother, so I fled as quickly as I could. I didn’t follow him in the Catacombs for two weeks after that, I was too ashamed.

I’ve always hated getting hints that Baz may be a human being with feelings, and not just my evil git of a roommate. It makes hating him harder.

However, he isn’t talking to his mother tonight. He isn’t in the Catacombs at all. A shiver runs through me. What the hell happened to him.

I shouldn’t panic, it’s silly, the Catacombs aren’t the only place where he could be. But where else could he be? He was at dinner, so probably not the kitchen. 

Niall’s and Dev’s room, maybe? 

Yes, that’s a good idea.

But it’s 2 a.m. I shouldn’t bother them so late, Dev will probably hex me if I wake them up for nothing because Baz isn’t with them.

But I guess it’s worth a shot. I could always ask Penny to find a counterspell for whatever curse Dev will use. 

I run back to Mummers -because it’s cold, _not_ because I’m in a hurry to find Baz- and climb the stairs, tripping on my foot a couple of times and almost falling on my face once, until I reach the floor where their room is. There’s light coming from underneath it, and I can hear chatter. 

Thank Merlin, they’re up. 

I knock on the door, and at the same time, I hear a clear, beautiful laugh.

The door is opened with so much force it’s a miracle it doesn’t slam right against the wall. It’s Dev who opened it, an almost empty bottle in his hand and his hair a mess. He giggles when he sees me “Bazzy there’s someone for you.” 

Bazzy?

I can’t think too long about it because suddenly, Baz Pitch is in front of me, cheeks slightly pink -which is the vampire equivalent of a fully flushed face- his shirt half open and untucked and his eyes shiny. 

Oh Merlin, he’s pissed.

“Well hello, Snow,” he says, struggling to stay up. He decides to lean against the open door, which is a terrible idea since the wall isn’t quite behind it and his weight makes it move.

He almost falls, and I instinctively reach for him. I freeze before my hands can touch his body. Preventing Baz from falling on his arse isn’t something I do. 

He manages to catch the door handle before it comes to that, though, and behind him, Dev and Niall burst out laughing as they watch him try to stand back up properly.

“You’re such a mess,” I whisper. I’m pretty sure a normal person wouldn’t have heard me, but Baz has enhanced hearing, so he does.

“No more than you, darling,” he says, giving me what must be intended to be a smirk. Crowley, does Baz get flirty when he has drunk? He must be really pissed to be calling _me ‘_ darling’, though. That’s something I have to remember. He always uses what I say to him against me, I can’t miss an occasion to be the one who embarasses him for once. “What do you want? Miss me already?”

I blush. “I was just wondering where you were. It’s not like you to disappear like that.”

“You know nothing about me Snow, don’t act like you do.”

His words make me angry. Does he really think I know _nothing_ about him? I could write a bloody encyclopedia about Baz Pitch.

“Anyway,” I say shortly. “Now I know where you are, so I’m gonna go. Good night Baz.”

“Oh no, stay a bit,” he says, throwing himself at me, slinging one of his arms around my shoulders. 

We’ve never been closer except when we were fighting. His face is so near mine I can smell his breath. It stinks of alcohol.

“Oi, Baz, calm down,” Niall intervenes. He seems to have drunk less than the two others. He is next to Baz and I in an instant. “Let Snow go, okay?”

“Never again,” Baz mumbles, tightening his grips on me. The entirety of his weight is resting on my body now, and it’s rather hard to stay up. He’s heavier than he looks. Probably because all of his bloody muscles. 

I don’t know what to do or say, that’s a fucking weird situation, so I just stand there, waiting for someone else to do something. Niall eventually reaches for Baz, trying to make him let go of me, but Baz is holding onto me for dear life. When Niall puts his hand on Baz’s, Baz pushes him. I think he isn’t controlling his strength because the impact sends Niall a couple of steps back, and without Dev’s reflex to catch him, he would have ended up on the floor. “Don’t you fucking touch him like that ever again,” Dev barks at Baz, his eyes dark.

“It’s fine, he’s pissed, he isn’t in control of anything,” Niall says. Then, to me. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make him leave you alone. Do you mind taking him back to your room?”

I mean, do I have much of a choice? Baz is so close we’ve basically merged together at this point. “It’s fine.”

“Thanks. Oh, and Snow? Don’t listen to a word he says. He drank too much, his head isn’t clear.”

Yeah, I had gotten that much from the way he’s acting and the fact that he called me darling, thank you very much, I’m not that daft. 

However, I nod, so that Niall knows he can trust me. I’m not sure he should, and I’m not sure why I want Baz’s friend to trust me to take care of him, but I do. There are a lot of moments when I want to hurt Baz, but this isn’t one of them. He’s too vulnerable. There’s no honour in attacking someone in such a weak state. 

And I’m not sure I really want to fight Baz anymore.

Wow, my brain really gets weird thoughts past midnight. I’m never taking a nap in the afternoon ever again.

Niall thanks me again before closing the door to his and Dev’s room, having his own drunk to take care of, and I clumsily try to walk with Baz slouching on me. 

“Looks like you had fun,” I say, because I can’t help but tease him a little bit.

“Dev got alcohol. Couldn’t say no.”

“Sure you could.”

He shakes his head vigorously, making me lose my balance. “Wow, mate, watch out or we’re both going to end up in the infirmary.”

“How romantic that would be, you and me, alone in the infirmary,” he says with one of those sneers he’s so good at. The fact that he can still sneer perfectly with more alcohol than blood in his veins is beyond me. But it’s Baz so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Stop talking, you’re drunk.”

“Don’t listen to Niall, I know what I’m saying,” he says, slurring his words a little bit. I guess the only time Baz doesn’t have perfect elocution is when he’s gulped down at least an entire bottle of alcohol on his own. 

“You sure are. Come on, watch your feet, we have to climb the stairs. Fuck it’s so dark in here.”

I hear him sigh loudly -prick- and suddenly there’s light. In his hand. He lit a fire in his hand.

My vampire roommate is playing with fire while completely pissed. Merlin, he’s so different from the Baz I know and hate when his inhibitions are gone. “Do you have a death wish! Put that out right now!”

“But you complained it was dark.” He sounds like a child. 

“I’d rather risk breaking my nose than you going up in flames. Put that out, you’re not sober enough to control fire.”

“I’m a Pitch. I can always control fire.”

“Excuse me if I don’t care to find out. Stop being annoying and climb up the stairs, Jesus Christ.”

I put my arm around his waist to support him a bit more, and try to help him move his feet. 

“You’re cute when you swear like a normal,” he giggles. 

Baz _giggles_.

Eight fucking snakes. 

“Hush. The stairs, Baz. Focus on the bloody stairs.”

“You could just leave me here, you know. Go back to our room and leave me to freeze my arse off in the stairs or break something trying to climb them on my own.”

“You helped me today, so I’m going to help you.”

“Ah, of course, you’re only nice to me because you think you owe me. I should have known,” he says, sounding… bitter? Hurt? I can’t quite place it, but it’s a strange emotion to hear in his voice. 

I don’t answer. I don’t want him to keep talking, and he loves having the last word too much to just shut up if I say something else. We’re only a few steps away from the top of the tower, and I almost sigh in relief when we enter our room. I honestly didn’t think we’d get here without one of us getting hurt.

Baz is clinging to me even more than he was before, so much so that it almost hurts. His face is pressed at the top of my head, and he seems to be sniffing my hair? 

Baz after a few drinks is really something.

I hope I never forget that.

“Sm’lsg’d,” he says, his voice muffled by my hair. It’s not really understandable, but it sounds a bit like “Smells good”?

What the fuck.

“Okay, Baz, we’re back in our room.” Our room. It feels weird to say that. It’s mine and Baz’s room, not _our_ room. “I’m going to put you in bed okay?”

“No. Don’t wanna go.” His head isn’t in my hair anymore, so it’s easier to understand what he says. 

“You have to, Baz. You need to sleep, and you’re going to be very angry tomorrow if you remember any of what happened just now.” I walk him to his bed as I say that, which is far more complicated now that he has decided not to help me whatsoever. I literally have to drag his body. 

“Won’t be angry. ‘m not angry, now. ‘m glad. Got you right where I want you.” It’s the last thing he says before he collapses in bed, his eyes already closed. 


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about Simon’s mysterious mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let’s pretend the Mage isn’t Head of the Coven in this fanfiction

**Baz**

Snow was right, after all, I’m angry.

But not at him. At myself. Why did I drink so much last night? Vampires have a high resistance to alcohol, to be as pissed as I was and have such a spectacular headache now, I must have drunk at least half of what Dev brought on my own. 

I don’t remember much of my time with Dev and Niall except lots of drinking and laughing and pretending to vomit when they kissed. What I do remember is the disaster that happened after, when Snow, this beautiful nightmare, showed up at my cousin’s door looking for me.

He must have been exceedingly bored to resort to stalking me.

It’s like fifth year all over. Me drinking until I can’t think clearly. Being in Dev and Niall’s room. Snow stalking me.

Except it’s so much worse because contrary to in fifth year, Snow directly witnessed how big a mess I am when I’ve drunk too much. More than that, he saw some of my feelings for him. He probably thinks it’s just how I am when I’m drunk, but the truth is, it’s just how I wish I could be all the time. Touching Snow. Flirting with him. Calling him pet names and burying my face in his curls -they’re so fucking soft, how is it even possible, he only washes himself with school issued soad.

Crowley I even smelled his fucking hair.

I want to hide in a hole and never have to see him ever again after that pathetic show I gave him last night. 

Of course, it doesn’t happen. Even worse, when I eventually open my eyes -which fucking hurts, fuck the sun-, I see Snow sitting on his bed looking at me. I blink a couple of time to get my eyes used to the blinding brightness in the room. The sun is so high in the sky it must be around lunchtime.

“Hello, darling,” Snow tells me with a cheeky grin.

I know he’s taking the piss, I know it shouldn’t make me feel all warm inside, but Simon Snow calling me darling is something right out of my loveliest dreams, those in which Simon loves me the way I do, the best kind of dreams I get about him. 

I raise myself up on my elbows to look at him.

“Fuck off Snow,” I manage to say. It hurts to talk. 

I’m never drinking again.

“Very eloquent.” Bastard. Using  _ my  _ insults against me. Though I must say, blurting out “Fuck off” is something  _ Snow  _ usually does, not me. “You missed lunch, you’ll have to eat some of those salt and vinegar crisps you hide.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Just like you don’t brush off the crumbs on my side of the room,” he smiles. “I gotta go, have fun on your own Bazzy.” He gives me a wink and waves at me before walking out of the room, giggling.

I hate him. Every fucking inch of him. It’s a fucking tragedy I also love him more than anything else in the world.

The moment he closes the door, I let myself fall back on the mattress. I need medicine. And 24 more hours of sleep. But I can’t get any of those things right now, so instead, I reach under my bed until I feel the little box in which I hide my cell phone. Technically they’re not allowed at Watford, but it’s a stupid rule so everyone ignores it, except Snow. I wonder if the Mage even gave him a phone. The man is so paranoid about technology, he probably didn’t. 

I have two messages from Fiona. 

Aunt Fi, Yesterday, 3:11 p.m. :  **I heard your golden boy is back. Have you wept in his arms like a woman seeing her husband coming back from war yet?**

Aunt Fi, Yesterday, 3:48 p.m. :  **I was on the phone with Malcolm, he just got out of a Coven meeting. I know where the Mage sent your Chosen One. Call me when you can.**

Fuck. I should have checked that damn phone earlier. 

My finger presses on the icon to call her before my brain can really think about it.

**…**

**Fiona**

I’m still a bit stunned by the news Malcolm just gave me.

I knew the Mage was a despicable bastard, but I didn’t think he had such low morals. I can’t believe the Coven hasn’t dismissed him and put someone competent in charge of Watford yet. This piece of shit is the one supposed to look after an entire generation of little mages and he goes around… 

I can’t believe it.

I’m not particularly fond of vampires, but I have Basil and the idea that the Mage would do to him what he did to that poor girl... It makes me feel sick. 

I have to protect that fucking kid.

I  _ will  _ protect your kid, Tasha. Protect him from that psychopathic impostor who was sitting in your office before we could even scatter your ashes.

But to protect him, I have to tell him what danger he’s facing, what his beloved fucking rommate can do if the bloody Mage asks him to. And I’m afraid it might break him, Tasha. He cares so much about that kid. I’m not sure he can handle knowing what Simon Snow did.

**…**

“Baz? Thank Merlin, I thought you’d never call.”

“I was… busy. You said you had information about Snow’s mission?”

His voice is a little bit too slow, like he has to really think about each word before saying it. Crowley, he sounds like when he was hungover, this summer, after I took him to a club -he’s 18 now, it was my duty to make him discover the wonderful world of bars. 

“I do. Are you alone? And sitting down?”

“Yes. To both. What is it, Fiona?”

“Before I tell you what Snow’s mission was, there’s a story I have to tell you. It’s relevant.”

“Well, go on.” There’s an edge to his voice, but I cannot quite tell if it’s due to irritation or nervousness. Maybe both. 

“Have you heard of Emmeline Hale?”

“I suppose she’s related to Tatiana Hale? I had dinner with her and her parents two years ago when Father still thought he could turn me straight.”

“Yes, it’s the same family. As you must know if you’ve met Mr and Mrs Hale, their family is in the higher spheres of our world. Before their second daughter, Tatiana, was born, they had another girl, Emmeline. The thing is, they disowned her a few years ago because she got pregnant with a Normal’s child, a Normal she wasn’t married to, on top of that, which is probably why you never heard of her.”

“That’s a sad story, but how does this have anything to do with Snow’s mission?” he interrupts me.

Impatient child. “I’m getting there. After being disowned, Emmeline left the magickal world to raise her child in peace. The Coven still kept her under surveillance though, they couldn’t risk her revealing our existence to the Normals. That’s how they found out, at the beginning of the summer, that Emmeline had been turned into a vampire.” I hear his breath hitch. “The Coven studied her case, they sent someone after her,” They sent  _ me _ , I don’t say “and after their envoy watched her for a few weeks and didn’t see her kill a person once, they went back to the Coven, which, after long talks, decided Emmeline wasn’t a threat to our world or to the Normals and that they wouldn’t engage actions against her so long as she didn’t drain a person. But apparently, the Mage disagreed with that decision. Emmeline was killed in a fire two days ago in her house in Yorkshire, and both the Mage’s and Snow’s magic were spotted in the house.”

He seems to connect the dots, because I hear a sound coming from him, something hurt and angry before the call cuts.

**...**

**Simon**

I told Penny I’d met her in the library this afternoon, so that’s where I go when I leave the room. I wish I had stayed a bit longer, it would have been fun seeing Baz hungover, but it would have been strange just being there, watching him, and I’ve got nothing to do in our room since Penny hasn’t given me any homework yet. I hope she won’t. I’m not really feeling like doing schoolwork at the moment.

I’m still a bit shaken by my mission, and the way Baz has been acting yesterday isn’t helping. I don’t understand.

I mean, I never understand Baz, but whatever is happening at the moment is worse. His surprising kindness when I was sick. His drunken words. None of it makes sense. I want the old Baz back. 

And then… Then there’s the Mage. 

The whole time I spent with him after he drove back from Yorkshire was torture. He wouldn’t more than a few disappointed words to me as he healed me, and I could tell he was furious. I hate it when the Mage is angry at me. I don’t think he would hurt me, he rarely ever yells at me, but I feel terrible when I know I’ve done something wrong. He has done so much for me, I  _ have  _ to pay him back in some way, and the only thing I have is my power. 

Penny says I shouldn’t feel that way about the Mage. She says I don’t owe him anything, because if he hadn’t gotten me out of the care homes, someone else would have. Mages don’t give up on their own, once they’d have found out there was a little mage in the hands of Normals, they would have done whatever they could to find me a home and send me to Watford. She told me her mother told her that the Coven was talking about my case after my magic blew up the care home, and that a couple of families - _ Old Families _ \- said they would have taken me in if the Mage wasn’t already on his way to do so. 

Sometimes I wonder if things would have been better, had I been adopted by one of the Families when I was 11 instead of having the Mage as my guardian.

Those are dangerous thoughts. There’s no way to know if it’d been better, and there would be no way to go back in time if it would have been, so it’s better not to dwell on it.

**…**

Penny is trying to get me to talk to her about my mission again.

“Just drop it Penelope, please. I’ll tell you when I’ll be ready.”

“But Simon, you were gone for three weeks! I was so worried, and all of a sudden you came back, seemingly unharmed, and hiding things from me. We’re not supposed to hide things from each other. No secrets, remember?”

“It’s not really a secret, though,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “You know I was working for the Mage, and I just told you to  _ wait _ . I promise I’ll tell you everything, eventually. Just not now. And I promise that you have nothing to worry about, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t seem to buy it. She gives me a suspicious glance, but she  _ finally  _ listens and stops pushing. “Let’s talk about Agatha then.” 

I groan. “What about Agatha?”

“You broke up again, didn’t you?”

“You know, it’s really messed up that you sound so happy about it. But yeah, Aggie and I broke up. For good this time, though. This whole relationship thing wasn’t working, I decided to end it all.”

Penny put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you that I told you so, but  _ I told you so. _ ” I roll my eyes. “I’m proud of you Simon. It was time you opened your eyes about how you truly feel about being Agatha’s boyfriend, and about Agatha herself. I think it’s better for the both of you that you broke up.”

“I think so too.”

“But tell me, was this decision in any way influenced by the fact that you’ve got your eyes set on someone else?” she asks, sounding serious.

Why would Penny think I like someone else? I know five girls at Watford, at best, one of them is my best friend, the second my ex-girlfriend, the third isn’t even at Watford anymore because Baz, this evil git, stole her voice, and the two others are lesbians. There’s really no one I could be interested in. 

“No, there’s no one.”

**…**

**Penny**

He reeked of Baz’s perfume this morning at breakfast. I’ve been in their room often enough to recognize the scent of Basil’s posh products, but also to know that the smell doesn’t clings to you just from being in the room. The only times Simon ever smelled like Baz was when they fought, but they haven’t had a physical fight in years, and if they had, I know Simon wouldn’t have shut up about it.

So it’s not that.

On top of that, he looks like he hasn’t slept, and Baz didn’t show up at lunch because he was sleeping -when we were having lunch, Simon told me he’d go back to his room until Baz woke up and then join me in the library. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He really can. I don’t care if he’s snogging Baz. Crowley, maybe he’d stop talking about Baz plotting against him constantly if they were snogging.

He frowns. “Yeah, sure I know. Why?”

“Just making sure.”

“No offense, Penny, but you’re acting weird.”

Maybe I should just ask him. It’s what I always do, I don’t beat around the bush with Simon. He’s a little thick sometimes, he needs to be told things directly, but I don’t know if he’d be comfortable with the particular question I want to ask him. And I don’t want to force him out of the closet if he’s not ready.

“You’re the one who abandoned me to watch your roommate sleep like a creep but I’m the one acting weird?” I tease him. 

Simon’s whole face turns bright red. “Shut up Penny,” he mumbled, not looking at me. “I didn’t watch him sleep I was just waiting for him to wake up.”

“And why is that? Why was Baz even sleeping so late?”

“He always sleeps late. Well, not that late, but he’s never out of bed before 10:30 on weekends. Anyway, it’s none of your business.”

None of my business? I think it’s the first time he tells me something between Baz and him is “none of my business”. He’s always telling me everything he told Baz and Baz told him. Complaining about him is Simon’s favourite hobby. 

There’s  _ definitely  _ something going on between the two of them. I just have to find out what it is exactly.

“What happens in Mummers stays in Mummers?” I say with a snort.

“Yes, exactly!” 

Merlin.

**…**

**Simon**

Why is Penny so curious about Baz all of a sudden? She tells me to shut up about him at least once a day.

“Enough chatter,” she eventually says. “It’s time to get to work.”

“Can we go back to you questioning me about Baz?” I whine.

“No. You missed three weeks Simon. You have to at least know what’s going on in class so that you’re not completely lost tomorrow morning.”

Well fuck.

**…**

After hours of studying -torture- Penny, this monster, finally allows me to leave the library. I don’t even have it in me to go to dinner. I just want to lie in bed until my head stop hurting. I was not made to work for such a long time non stop like her, I need breaks, and she wouldn’t give me any. 

So now I’m on my way back to my room, finally free of this demon who calls herself my friend. If I’m hungry, I’ll just steal some of the food Baz hides in his desk when he’ll go to the Catacombs.

The moment I step inside the room, I can tell something is wrong. There’s this strange mood in the room that’s always there when the storm is coming. 

My eyes immediately look for Baz and I see him lying on his bed, on his back, a cell phone in his hands.

I knew it! I knew he had an unauthorized phone!

“You’re not allowed to have that,” I tell him, not looking away from his phone -a nice one, that is. Of course it’s a nice one, he’s filthy rich, he can afford to pay hundreds of pounds for a phone. 

“I don’t care. Go tell the Mage if you want. It’s what you always do, anyway, isn’t it? Go to the Mage, tell him every fucking thing about me. Like when you were trying to prove I was a vampire, huh?”

Yeah, and the Mage didn’t want to believe me. I don’t know why, Baz is  _ obviously  _ a vampire. I’ve seen him drain those fucking rats in the Catacombs. 

“You’re a vampire,” I answer, ignoring everything else he said.

I wish he’d just admit it. I know he is one, and he knows that I know. So what’s the point in pretending?

“So what if I am?” He says, almost jumping out of bed. “Tell me Snow, what exactly would you do if you had an irrevocable proof that I am, indeed, a vampire, like you’ve thought for years?”

The thing is, I don’t know. 

I want him to admit it, I want him to say it out loud, to acknowledge that he’s one. But I don’t know why. I don’t want to report him to the Mage anymore. The thought makes me sick, especially after... what happened.

“What. Would. You. Do.” 

With each word, he comes closer and closer. I move back until my back hits the door, but Baz doesn’t stop, not until he’s a breath away from me, towering over me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know Baz, I really don’t.”

“I think you do, though.  _ I  _ do. You would go to the Mage, and the both of you would burn me, like you burnt  _ her. _ ”


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Dev and Niall  
> Simon glows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way! i forgot to mention it, but i’ll be posting a chapter each day ^^
> 
> the part written in italic is written by the character, not just internal monologue

**Baz**

I can’t believe I comforted Snow yesterday. Of course he had a violent reaction when I talked about his fucking mission! That bastard killed a vampire!

My arms are shaking with anger as I put my forearms around Snow’s face against the door. He looks positively terrified. Good. That’s how I felt when I found out.

Technically, I knew Simon killed creatures. But he hadn’t killed a  _ vampire  _ yet. It makes it more real. It makes him seem more like a threat.

I hate thinking of Snow as a threat. 

“I didn’t Baz, I didn’t hurt her.” He struggles to speak, his throat tied with fear and… regret?

He can regret all he wants. It won’t bring that girl back.

“I know you did. The  _ Coven _ knows you did.”

“I didn’t! Baz, I swear to God I didn’t, the Mage did I, I…” his voice is quivering. It shouldn’t satisfy me so much. 

“You what? Stood by as your fucking mentor set her on fire? Put out the fire when she was done burning? That’s as fucking bad as if you’d lit the match yourself, you know that right?”

Now his full body is trembling and his eyes are full of tears. My stupid, soft heart is screaming at me to stop, that he’s suffering enough, but then I remember what Fiona said and all my love is replaced with rage. He killed an innocent woman because  _ she  _ had been Turned. She was not the bad one in that story, she was a victim and he  _ killed her _ . 

“I know, I fucking know, I can’t stop think about it and I… I tried, I really tried… the Mage wouldn’t listen to me and I… There was nothing I could do.” He chokes out in between sobs, his arms hugging his body tightly. 

“You’re a bloody fucking bomb, Snow. Surely there was something you could do. You just fucking didn’t because she was a vampire.” 

He sinks a little against the door, as if I just dropped a heavy weight on his shoulders. 

“You killed her. And she had done  _ nothing _ . What’s stopping  _ me  _ from killing  _ you _ now?”

I wouldn’t do it. Of course I wouldn’t. I just want to see the fear in his eyes. I want him to feel what Emmeline Hale must have felt when she saw fire and understood that it was for her. 

“Anathema,” is all he says. “Baz I swear I tried to stop him.”

“I don’t give a fuck. The Coven won’t either if her family decides to press charges against the two of you,” I say, spitting the words in his face, before I grab him by the collar and throw him across the room.

I don’t hold back any of my strength. I don’t care if Snow notices this is an inhuman kind of strength. He knows I’m a vampire already. 

His back crashes against the opposite wall, and the last thing I heard before I slam the door is the loud cry of pain that escapes his lips. 

Fuck if the Anathema kicks me out.

**…**

**Simon**

I deserve it. 

All of it.

His rage.

His hurtful words.

I deserve it all.

And more.

**…**

**Baz**

“I’m moving in with the two of you,” I say as I barge in Dev and Niall’s room. They’re on Dev’s bed, doing homework while sitting with their thighs touching.

It’s soft, domestic, and I feel bad for intruding but if I stayed in my room any longer I might have given the little voice in my head begging me to let my vampire instincts take over and bite Snow a bit too much attention.

“What has Snow done this time? Didn’t clean the sink after brushing his teeth?” Dev teases.

I stop in my tracks and give him a cool gaze. “He killed a vampire.”

I see the exact moment the words hit them. Emotions are wiped out of Niall’s face to only leave a blank expression while Dev’s eyes go wide in shock as he gasps.

“Merlin and fucking Morgana,” he says under his breath as he rushes to me, his textbooks falling messily on the floor. I feel his arms close around me and I let go in his embrace. 

It’s like all the muscles in my body abandon me at the same time and I slump against my cousin, the rage I felt subsiding to turn into sadness. Fear. 

“You’re okay, Baz,” Dev whispers as he tries to make me walk to Niall’s bed, since his is full of mess. I follow, and fall face first on the mattress, burying my face in Niall’s pillow. It smells like him, a soft, fruity perfume. The bed shifts as two people sit on it. I'm not sure which of them is sitting closer to my face, but whoever it is, he’s playing with my hair. It must be Niall. “You’re safe. He didn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t,” Dev finishes.

“But he would,” I croak. “He fucking would. The vampire he killed, she hadn’t ever killed a human, she hadn’t done anything wrong, and he still let her fucking burn. I’ve made his life hell for years, he’s always said we’d end up dueling until one of us killed the other ; so imagine what he’d do to  _ me _ .”

“Baz, are you sure about Snow killing that vampire?” Niall asks, ever so rational. “I know that he often slaughters things for the Mage, but a person?”

“Vampires aren’t people.”

“Baz. We’ve been over this already.”

“No, that’s not me saying it.” Though I do think that, particularly when ‘vampires’ means ‘me’. However, I strongly believe that Emmeline Hale, whoever she was, was a person. “It’s what Snow thinks. He wouldn’t have let the fucking Mage murder her otherwise.”

“Let the Mage do it? That’s not exactly the same thing as doing it himself, is it?” He sounds like Daphne when she explains things to Mordy. It makes me want to punch him.

“Close enough.”

“Niall’s right,” Dev says. “I mean, what could Snow do if the Mage already had his mind set on killing her?”

“Fucking stop him!”

“Don’t be unfair. You know it’s not that easy. I understand why you’re freaked, but I think you should take some time to think about it.” Since when is Dev the one giving advice? “Snow is barely in control of his own person, how do you want him to control someone else?”

“This whole thing is wrong,” Niall chimes in. “Of course, we’re not saying that it’s not, the Mage killing Emmeline and Snow being there is completely....”

“Wait,” I stop him, my head moving so fast to look at him that my neck cracks. “ You know who it is? The vampire I’m talking about?”

He gives me a small smile. There’s a sad look on his face as he nods.

“Yeah. The Hales are family friends. I knew Emmeline when we were kids. She was several years older, so I didn’t play with her much, but she was there when her parents dined at my place or when mine visited hers. So obviously, when news of her death arrived to the Coven, my mother told me.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Dev says.

Niall glares at him, as if to tell him to shut up.

“You know her family… Did your mother tell you if they were going to try putting Snow and the Mage on trial?” I ask.

The idea terrifies me. I couldn’t care less what happens to the Mage, that scum would deserve it, but Snow…

He shakes his head. “No. They want to grieve in peace without having to start a legal battle with the Mage. Technically, we’re sure that Snow and him are involved in Emmeline’s death because their magic was identified, but we also cannot know for sure that they did anything. Besides, the Coven has already covered the origin of the fire to the Normals in the village where Emmeline lived and they found no evidence while they were there. It happened at night, there weren’t any people around, so Snow, the Mage, and Emmeline’s little boy are the only witnesses, and the child hasn’t said a word since the Coven’s envoy rescued him to bring him to his grandparents.”

The kid. Eight snakes, I had completely forgotten that Fiona told me Emmeline Hale had a kid.

It makes some of my anger come back. 

A child lost his mother. 

**…**

**The Mage**

_ Simon is getting out of control. _

_ I knew he might have some reservations about his mission, he’s too weak and emotional, but I didn’t think he’d lead me on for so long. That would be impressive if I hadn’t let him do so simply because I didn’t want him at Watford while the Veil was open and if I didn’t know from the beginning that all those monsters he found were just excuses not to kill the creature. However, I didn’t imagine he would so blatantly disrespect me by completely refusing to obey my orders. He’s been going on and on about the Pitch boy being a vampire for years, telling me how much of a risk it represented having him at Watford, he should have seen that having that vampire in a village full of Normals was just as risky. _

_ I think I’ve been too lenient with him. He spends too much time with the Bunce girl. She is a bad influence on him.  _

_ I can’t have that. He’s no use to me if he’s too blinded by noble sentiments to obey my orders.  _

_ I didn’t do all of this for nothing. _

_ I can’t have a failed experiment. _

_ I have to test him again. To make sure I’ve still got him under my control. And if I don’t, I’ll have to take measures. But for now I have to give him a rest. Gain his trust again. Make him see that I’m doing this for the greater good. _

_ I’ll let him take the time he needs to forget about Hale, and then, I’ll ask him to do what he’s secretly wanted for years. _

_ To kill the Pitch boy.  _

**…**

**Niall**

Baz has eventually calmed down. It took a lot of talking to reason him, but eventually, it worked. I understand why he reacted to the news the way he did, of course I do. Snow killed a mage who was Turned against her will and never drained a human. You don’t need to be a genius to understand that it means Snow could kill him too. If I was Baz, I would be fucking terrified.

In all honesty, I’m already scared of Snow. That guy can explode like a bomb any time, he has no control over it whatsoever, I’d have never been comfortable sharing a room with him if I was in Baz’s place. But I also know that Baz was never truly afraid of Snow. Until now.

The few times Baz slept here instead of in his room, it was either because we forced him to do so or because they’d fought too much and Snow had chased him away so that he wouldn’t go off on him. It was never because  _ he  _ decided to flee the room.

It worries me.

**...**

While Baz locks himself in the bathroom to have some time alone to collect himself after the rollercoaster of emotions he went through this afternoon, I turn to Dev. He looks as concerned as I feel. 

He reaches out to take my hand, intertwining our fingers. It’s warm and comforting. Familiar. “How are you feeling? All of this was a lot for Baz, but you knew that girl and she had such a violent death… How do you feel about that?”

Merlin, he’s so sweet. I give him a smile, and lean to rest my head on his shoulder. Since we’re still holding hands, it’s a bit awkward, but the feeling of his body against mine and his breath on my hair makes up for it. “I’m a bit shaken, but it’s okay. We weren’t close. I’m much more worried about Baz.”

“I am too. But I mean, how would you feel if you were a vampire and I killed one?”

“Yeah, I know. I still think he should try to talk with Snow, you know? He’s going to get himself hurt even more if he ignores him. He did say that Snow told him he wasn’t the one who killed Emmeline, maybe he should try to know more about what happened, you know? Snow has a good heart, I can’t believe he would just stand there while the Mage lights someone on fire, something must have happened, and I’m sure Baz knows it too, but he’s stubborn, he has to hear it. I just don’t want him to suffer more than he has to.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am. I’m always right, didn’t you know?”

“Sure, love, sure,” he says, patting my head.

I elbow him in the side. “What if instead of making fun of me you went to the dinning hall to get us food? I don’t feel like fighting with Baz to make him eat in public tonight.”

“I’m not your slave, Niall.”

“Oh come one. Don’t you want to do something nice for your annoying cousin? For  _ me _ ?

“No, and no, sorry babe.”

“Then I suppose I’ll be forced to make you sleep on the floor tonight. Baz needs a bed, after all, and I already gave up mine in fifth year.”

The betrayed look on his face is hilarious. “You’d make  _ me  _ sleep on the floor so that  _ Baz _ can have a bed? Rude.”

“Well, at first I considered letting you sleep on my bed with me but since you won’t get me dinner... I’m not sure I should, you know?”

He’s practically already out of our room by the end of my sentence.

“Okay, I’m going, bye, see you later.”

The moment the door of the room closes, that of the en suite opens and Baz steps out. His eyes are still bloodshot, but he looks more put together than when he left the room. “Blackmailing Dev with affection, really? I didn’t know you were that cruel with him.”

“A man’s gotta what a man’s gotta do.” I wait for him to come sit next to me to continue. “So you heard us?”

“I did.”

“So I don’t need to repeat what I said to Dev?”

“No, you don’t,” he winces. 

“Are you going to listen to me, then? Talk to Snow?”

He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Not right now. I… I do know that you’re right but… Crowley he let the Mage kill someone! He should fucking feel bad about it a little before I give him a chance to make excuses.”

“But what if he didn’t ‘let’ the Mage do it? What if he wasn’t even there when the Mage attacked Emmeline? What if the Mage cast a spell on him so that he couldn’t do anything?”

**…**

**Baz**

I didn’t think of that, but it does sound more likely than Snow just standing there and watching as that fucker he admires murders an innocent woman. 

Merlin.

**…**

**Niall**

Something passes on Baz’s face, but it’s gone before I can identify what it is.

“Even if that’s what happened, I don’t want to talk with him now. Dev’s bringing us food, after all, I can’t go,” he says with an attempt at smiling.

“Yeah, about that. I kind of wanted him out of the room so that I could take you to yours.”

I feel his whole body tense next to me. “Niall…”

“No, no, it’s not what you think. I’m not going to force you to talk to him.” For now. “But you do need clothes and your school supplies so you have to go get them, and I’m going with you so that you and Snow don’t end up fighting the moment you enter the room.”

He gives me a distressed look.

“Can’t you just go? I’ll pay you. I’ll shut up when Dev and you snog. I’ll do your laundry. I’ll kiss your feet. I’ll be your personal slave for a week.”

“Baz. Just stop being a baby and come with me.”

“No.” 

And with that, he lets himself fall back on the bed because he is nothing if not a dramatic arsehole. “Baz, seriously, you need your stuff. The the sooner we go, the sooner we’re over. Snow might not even be in the room, it’s dinner time.”

**…**

**Baz**

And that’s how I end up in my room where, contrary to what Niall thought, Snow is, because my life sucks and fate hates me.

Except he’s not sitting on his desk looking adorably confused as he does his homework, or reading one of those comic books he’s already read a million times -he only owns three of them. He’s on the floor, on the exact same spot he landed when I threw him across the room. He’s hugging his knees against his chest, his chin propped up on them, and nothing but a blank expression on his face. For someone as open with what he’s feeling as Snow, it’s terrifying. He always has some sort of emotion written on his face, whether it’s through furrowed eyebrows or a grin. Even his eyes are empty ; they look like the eyes of those creepy ancient dolls, they reflect light but they show nothing.

He doesn’t even react when we enter the room, he just keeps staring into space without moving. 

Crowley if I couldn’t hear his heartbeat I’d think he was dead.

“Merlin,” Niall says under his breath when his eyes land on Snow.

I want to scream. This is  _ my fault  _ he’s in that state. I brought Emmeline up. I accused him of being a murderer, despite the fact that he had had a panic attack the day before because of that mission. I purposely hurt, I  _ enjoyed  _ hurting him, and then I left him all alone with his guilt and now he’s on the floor, not fucking moving or reacting to anything. 

I’m not even sure he’s seen us. He looks like his soul left his body and now there’s only this empty shell that looks like Snow. 

And his magic is making him fucking  _ glow. _

He doesn’t look human. 

It hurts to look at him, and not just metaphorically.

“Fuck, what’s wrong with him?” Niall’s frustrated cry brings me back to a reality that doesn’t only include Simon Snow. 

“I have no bloody idea. We have to get Bunce. We can’t leave him like that, and I can’t stay in that fucking room.”

I really can’t. It’s a miracle I haven’t ran away already. All I want is to go as far as I can from this frightening, immobile version of Snow. 

“How do you want Bunce to get there? Girls aren’t allowed inside Mummers.”

“Bunce can enter. I don’t know how, but she can. Just… I’ll send her a message, but please take some of my stuff and leave the door open until she arrives. I can’t… I can’t bear to see him.”

Niall gives me a sad look, putting his hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine. Go, I’ll take care of it.”

“Fuck Niall you’re the best, thank you.”

And I’m gone. 

I run down the stairs until I reach Dev and Niall’s room. I spell the door open -technically you cannot open the room to another student’s room but I’ve been there so much that I think the door has assimilated my magic, and Dev’s and my magical signature are rather similar since we’re family- and once I’m inside, I look for a pen and paper to write a note for Bunce.  _ Snow needs you. Come to Mummers, immediately. TBGP.  _ Then, I take my wand out, and point it at the note. “ **A little bird told me.** Penelope Bunce.” I cast the spell, and only seconds later, the paper folds into a bird shape and takes off.

**…**

**Penny**

Dinner is really bizarre tonight.

Not the food, but what happens during it. 

First, Simon doesn’t show up, which, in itself, is strange because Simon never skips meals. But he’s been acting strange lately, though I don’t know if it’s because of his mission or because of whatever is going on between Basil and him. 

Second, because Dev shows up alone, which is strange, Baz’s friends are always together. I think everyone who knows them thinks of them as DevandNiall, not Dev and Niall. You never see one of them without seeing the other. To make it even weirder, he takes three plates, and leaves.

Third, because a paper bird lands on my food. Why would anyone ‘ **A little bird told me’** something to me? This is a spell that requires a ridiculous amount of control for such a simple result. 

I take it anyway, because if someone chose to use that spell instead of just coming to me, it must be important. I unfold the paper, and the words written on it, in that elegant, sloping handwriting make my stomach drop. 


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny helps Simon

**Simon**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**…**

**Penny**

The walk to Mummers feels millions of miles long. I don’t even try to be careful not to be seen by any of the boys when I come inside and climb up the stairs, nothing matters except Simon.

For Baz Pitch to send me a message, it must be really serious. My heart is pounding in my chest. 

Merlin, what’s wrong with Simon?

Does it have to do with his mission he refuses to talk about? With Baz? No, he wouldn’t have been the one to contact me if it was. About the Humdrum maybe? Did he take Simon again? It would make sense, the Humdrum never takes Simon for long, and he’s only been out of my sight for three hours. 

I hope it’s not the Humdrum. I still shiver when I think of the time he took the both of us. I don’t want Simon to have to go through that again, especially not alone even though _he_ said he wished he’d be alone next time because he doesn't want me or anyone else to get hurt.

Then why can’t he understand that _I_ don’t want _him_ to get hurt? 

It’s the same exact reason why I hate all those missions Simon agrees to do for the Mage. I’m not sure he even agrees to it. The Mage just tell him to do something, and he does because he thinks he has no other choice. It makes me sick. Simon’s too good, he doesn’t see that the Mage is using him, and he refuses to listen when I tell him.

When I finally reach the top of Mummers, I see Niall waiting by the door, keeping it open. 

I have a horrible feeling about this.

“Bunce, thank Merlin. Before you go see him, I have to explain to you what happened. Baz knows what mission the Mage gave Snow that made him miss the first weeks of school…”

“And what is it?” It’s rude to interrupt people, but I couldn’t care less. I need to know what the fuck the Mage made him do.

“I can’t tell you.”

Eight snakes, that’s what my Mum also told me when I asked if she knew anything. I hate it. I’m not a child anymore, I can be told things, _especially_ when it’s about Simon. The fact that both Niall and Basil know and I don’t make it even worse. 

“Anyway, Baz knows, and they argued about it, like, a lot, Baz was a complete mess afterwards, and, uh, it must have triggered Snow in some way because when Baz and I came here to get something we… we found him like that.”

He finally steps aside, giving me a clear view of what’s going on. 

I wish he hadn’t moved. I wish I wasn’t seeing this. I wish Simon was well enough that I’d never have to see this again after… after that last time, with the Humdrum. 

I wish he could get a fucking rest.

Hasn’t he fought bloody enough?

“He hasn’t said a word. I’ve called his name and tried to talk to him, but he didn’t react. I didn’t try to touch him though. Do you think you’ll be able to handle that? Baz said you would but… it seems pretty serious? Do you need anything? Anyone?”

Niall sounds genuinely worried, and he looks it ; his eyebrows are furrowed and when he’s not talking, he’s biting his lip, his arms crossed on his chest. It seems strange, but not that much when I think about it. If I saw Basilton looking that miserable, I’d be worried for him too, and I don’t have particularly warm feelings towards him.

“Just make sure Basil doesn’t come back here until I tell him he can, okay?”

I just want him to go. I need to get inside this room, to be here for Simon.

Niall nods, and finally, _finally_ , moves enough to give me access to the room. I barely hear him telling me “Good luck” as I rush to Simon’s side.

I’ve only seen him in a similar state once. I managed to make him come back to reality before he slipped away too far or went off, and it all happened when I was also in a serious state of shock. So now, in better conditions, I can do it again. I have no choice but to do it again. He can’t stay like that too long. 

It’s so much worse than when he’s about to go off. When he goes off he’s like a balloon you’d fill with water. Fragile, helpless against this powerful flow inside him, that fills him, and fills him, and fills him, until it’s too much and he explodes. He suffers, but it’s short. While when he’s like that, it lasts, until he calms down and controls it or… We haven’t discovered the other situation yet, and I absolutely don’t want to. I can only imagine how horrific it would be, if all that magic that makes him glow was let out completely.

And to think I once envied Simon for all this power, all this magic he has. I very quickly realized that too much power is much more a curse than a blessing. That it can destroy you, if you’re not well armed against it. And Simon surely isn’t. 

But he has me.

I reach out for him, preparing myself for the burn, because I know physical touch anchors him more than anything else.

When my hand brushes his arms it’s torture, but I don’t let go. A burn can be healed.

I don’t want to be looking at his eyes, it’s like being stabbed in the heart seeing them like that, two empty blue stains on his face, but it’s important. I have to see the moment he comes back.

“Simon. Si, it’s Penny. You’re safe Simon. Nothing is coming for you. You don’t have to shield yourself. You’re safe. I promise, Simon, you’re safe. You can let go. Simon. Simon. Simon. It’s Penny, Simon. Please Simon, hear me.”

**…**

**Simon**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Simon. Please Simon, hear me.”

**…**

**Penny**

That’s it. He’s with me. Thank Merlin.

“Simon, we’re in your room, you’re safe. You can let go. Let go, Si, not go off, okay? Like you did last time. It was brilliant. You were brilliant. Would you do that again for me? Let your magic come back inside, Simon, you don’t need it around you. It can stay inside.”

“Hurts.”

It’s just a word, and he barely moves his lips, but I could cry in relief.

“Yes, I know it hurts. It will hurt less if you let it come back inside, okay? You know that’s where it should be. Remember what I told you. Imagine you’re an empty bottle, and you have to put all your magic inside the bottle and close it. Can you do that for me?”

His fingers twitch. A reaction. Good. 

“Come on Simon, I believe in you, I know you can do it. Focus on your magic, and try to put it all back inside. It’ll feel better once it’ll be inside, I promise. Let’s try something. Breathe with me, and when you breathe, imagine that you inhale some of your magic with the air, okay? Go on, breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold and out.” He follows my instructions. I’m so proud of him. He can’t breathe in for 5 seconds on his first try before he lets out a shaky breath, but at least he _tried._ “It’s fine Simon, it’s fine, don’t get frustrated, you’re doing great. Let’s do it again.” I count to 5 one more time, and this time, he succeeds. I smile. “That’s it, Simon, great! Again.” 

We keep going like that until he’s no longer glowing and his skin no longer burns to the touch. My hand that was on him hurts like hell, but it’s not important. At least I got Simon back. He’s still huddled up, but he moved a bit, to rub his face with his palms, and his eyes are expressive again.

I just wish what they expressed wasn’t pain. So much pain. Too much for someone so young.

I wish the world had been kinder to him.

I wish he could have had a normal life, or at least, as normal as a life can be when you go to a magic school.

But, as wonderful as magic can be, wishes and ‘if’s are as much of an illusion for us as they are for the Normals. 

“You did amazing Simon, I’m proud of you.”

“Didn’t do anything. Put myself in that mess.”

“Well, I’d say cleaning up your own mess is already something. And you managed to control your magic! Again! That’s wonderful!”

“I can only manage it when it’s like that. Once it’s inside me it does its own thing. I hate it. I hate all this fucking power I have Penny. I wish I had none of it.”

He sounds so angry, so hurt, my heart aches. If only there was something I could do to help him, to make things easier for him, but there’s nothing anyone can do. No one knows where Simon’s power comes from, why he has so much, so no one can tell if it’s possible to make him have _less_ of it. A manageable amount. 

“I’m sorry, Simon,” I say, putting my hand on his arm, almost at the same spot as it was when I was trying to make him come back. 

He must feel that my hand isn’t in its normal state, because he grabs my wrist and twists my arms until his eyes can see my palm. They go wide.

“Penny… your hand… I… I did that…” His voice is unsteady while his gaze is fixed on my hand. 

“It’s okay, I’m the one who touched you, it’s not your fault.” I try, even though I know it will do nothing. Simon always finds a way to blame himself for things. Some would say it’s his superhero complex. I think he’s just a boy who’s been told his entire life that every bad thing that happened was his fault. A boy with a pure heart who’s been torn to pieces by life, who’s seen and been compelled to do so many horrors he was left with a constant feeling of guilt. 

“But it is! If I wasn’t so fucked up, you would have never had to do that in the first place! If I wasn’t so fucked up my fucking magic would stay inside my fucking body and it wouldn’t be able to hurt someone who just fucking touches me!” 

His eyes are full of fire and tears. 

“Simon. Stop please. I don’t want you to get upset again, okay? You don’t want to hurt me, right? Then stay calm. This way, your magic won’t getting out of hand again. I’m not angry at you, I don’t want you to be angry at yourself. It’s just a burn. I’ll go get it healed, it’ll be fixed in a matter of seconds. It’s really not a big deal, I promise.”

I see him open his mouth, but I know he’s just going to argue and not accept what I say. He’s stubborn. Too bad I am too, and more than he is. “No. I don’t want to hear you. It’s my hand. If I tell you it’s not serious, then it’s not serious. You could make a big deal out of it if it was _your_ hand, Simon Snow, but it’s not, so just drop it.”

He pouts, but stays silent. It makes me smile. If Simon can act childish, it means we’re on the good way. If he asks about food, I’ll know he’s fine.

I don’t think it’s going to happen now, though. Not with the question I ask him. I know that maybe I should leave him alone, but it’s killing me not knowing what’s going on with him. We have a no secrets policy, after all! “Now, do you want to tell me what happened for you to put yourself in such a state?” I ask carefully, watching his face to see if his expression changes. 

It does. He looks away from me to look at his hands. He’s tapping his right index finger on his right leg, and the left one on his left leg. “The last time it happened…” I continue. “it was because of the Humdrum. Did… Did he take you again?”

I know it’s not that, Niall confirmed that it was something regarding this long mission the Mage gave him, but I want Simon to tell me himself.

He shakes his head. “No. It’s… Something else. I… It’s… It’s about my mission. But I don’t want to talk about it!”

I sigh. Of couse, he doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s so frustrating. I could help him if I new, but you can’t tend to a wound if you don’t know where it is or what it looks like. “Simon…”

“Penny, no. In my own time. I will tell you on my own time. For the moment, it’s… it’s just too hard.”

“But don’t you think I could make it less hard if I knew what it was?”

“No. I don’t think you could. I… It was really worse than anything I’ve had to do for the Mage before, Penny. I… I don’t want you to be disgusted by me.”

His voice is so low at the end of his sentence that I almost can’t hear him. But I can, and I can hear all the suffering and self-hatred he puts in these words. It makes me want to strangle the Mage for making him do whatever it is that caused Simon those feelings. 

He has felt done, before, after missions, because even if the creatures he kills are dangerous for both the mages and Normals, sometimes, Simon feels very strong remorse. He doesn’t like killing things. He does it because he has to, whether it is because the Mage asked or because he’s in a life or death situation that could only end with the creature’s survival or his own, but killing is never easy, especially not for someone as kind as him.

With time, I know he developed a stronger resistance, he handles it better. He told me he sort of gets out of his body when he gives his enemies the killing blow, a defense mechanism his brain has put in place to protect him from going completely mad.

What he’s done on his mission must have been truly awful for him not to be able to shield himself from the hurt without his magic intervening this time. 

“I’d never be disgusted by you, Simon.” I mean it. He’s too good to do something that would truly repulse me, I know it. Simon has more morals than I do, I’m not afraid to admit it.

He violently shakes his head, his hands gripping his trousers so tightly the tips of his fingers turn white. “You don’t know… But you would… That’s why I can’t tell you. Even Baz is disgusted, Penny. _Baz._ ”

“You shouldn’t care so much what Baz thinks about you.” Unless you’re snogging him or something, I suppose. “He’s a prick, didn’t you tell me that a million times?”

“Yeah, exactly, he’s a bastard who eats rats and stole Philippa’s voice without a single regret and even he thinks what I did is awful.”

He’s trembling now. Fuck. No. 

“Simon, please, calm down. Whatever it is you did, you torturing yourself over it is not going to change anything. Why don’t you do that thing you do where you don’t think about upsetting things?”

“Because I’m not fucking able to not think about it! Whenever I close my eyes, whenever I’m not focusing on something, it’s all I can fucking think about. I keep… I keep seeing the fire.” A loud sob passes his lips and he buries his face in his knees again.

The fire?

What did Simon do with a fire?

I have a gut feeling that I know, but I don’t want to be right. There’s not many creatures against which fire is more efficient than the Sword of Mages, and if Basil is mad about what Simon did…

“What fire, Simon?” I ask, making my voice as soft as I can, as I wrap one of my arms around his shaking shoulders and lean my forehead against the top of his head. I’m not much of a hugger, but I can give him at least that. 

He sniffs loudly, trying, unsuccessfully, to choke back his sobs “No, no, no, no, no.”

I wish there was a spell to make someone’s psychological pain stop, a **Kiss it better** but for your mind. I can’t bear to see him suffer like that. 

But I really think getting it out once and for all would help. That’s why people see therapists, right? Because talking to someone is better than keeping it to yourself.

“Simon… It was a vampire, right? The Mage asked you to… kill a vampire.”

The gasp I hear is answer enough.

Crowley.

But at least, maybe I’ll get Simon to talk to me, now that he knows I know. I do hope so. He’s crying so much, I don’t know what to do except be here for him. Me talking to him isn’t going to help him calm down this time. His sorrow isn’t as easy to deal with as shock.

“She… She was… She was a mage too,” he says, his voice shaking so much it’s hard to understand him. “I… she was a person Penny, not a monster. I didn’t… I didn’t want to kill her. I tried not to but... but the Mage… the Mage he.... he did it.”

“So… The Mage did it. You didn’t. Is that right? That fire you talked about, the Mage was the one who started it?”

“Yes but… I… I didn’t save her… I… I should have… I tried… But I didn’t… I couldn’t… I let her die.”

He’s far too good for this cruel world. If only I could protect him from it.

“Simon… I know it’s hard to accept, but you cannot save everyone. The weight of the world doesn’t have to rest on your shoulders. You don’t always have to be the hero.”


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz is worried about Simon  
> He has a conversation with Penelope, and ‘secrets’ are revealed

**Baz**

I fucking hate Simon Snow.

Even when he’s the one who did something wrong he makes me feel like shit. How could I not feel like shit after seeing him looking so tormented. I know that the fact that he’s feeling remorse about what happened during his damn mission doesn’t make it any less terrible, but fuck, his panic attack yesterday and now this today… he’s really in pain because of it and I feel awful for the things I’ve told him. 

You’d think that after 7 years of this, of fighting constantly, making Simon Snow suffer wouldn’t faze me anymore, but it does. Every bad word I tell him hurts me when I see how he reacts to it, but I can’t stop them. When I’m angry at him, or frustrated, they just come out naturally and all I can do is regret them later.

“Baz, stop thinking about Snow and tell me what that means,” Dev says, stabbing my thigh with his pen. I’m supposed to help him do his Greek homework -Niall is profiting off my presence here to exploit me, the bastard. 

“Fuck off, Dev.”

“If you’re so worried, you can just go back to your room instead of sulking in here.”

“Bunce doesn’t want him in the room,” Niall intervenes, not looking up from his phone. “And he’s too much of a coward to go back tonight, so I suppose we’ll have to deal with his sulking.”

“Fuck off, Niall.”

“Do you have anything to tell us except to fuck off?” Dev smirks.

“No. Fuck off. And I’m not helping you anymore,” I say, pushing myself up from the bed. “I have to go feed.”

“Really Basil? Fleeing to the Catacombs?”

“I’m not fleeing. I have to feed.”

“You can go several days without feeding, you’ve done it before. You’re fleeing.”

“So what if I am? I asked you if I could sleep here I’m not asking to be fucking help hostage in your room.”

I know I’m being unfair. Niall and Dev are nice enough to let me stay here, I shouldn’t be such a prick to them, but Snow being unwell is killing me, not knowing if Bunce is managing to help him out of this awful state he put himself in is killing me, being away from him is killing me.

“What if Bunce comes down here while you’re gone?”

The comment stops me in my tracks.

Bastard. Manipulative fucking bastard. 

“Okay, I’m staying, but you two let me mope in peace. I’ll just lie there being miserable and you can do whatever it is you usually do here.”

“I’m not sure we can do that. I don’t wanna shag with you in the room,” Dev says, giving Niall a lustful look that makes me want to gouge my eyes out. Crowley, these two. 

“Good because I don’t want to suffer the trauma of witnessing the gross sex you two have.” I sit back on Dev’s bed, trying to push him off it. “Go with your boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of my bed. You’re a terrible person to be sharing a room with.”

Yeah, Snow thinks so too.

“As if you don’t want to go with Niall,” I say, rolling my eyes, as he stands up.

Not even trying to prove me wrong, he joins Niall on his bed, lying with his head on his boyfriend’s stomach. One of Niall’s hands lets go of his phone to go play with Dev’s hair. 

They’re adorable. It’s disgusting.

“That’s irrelevant. You’re still the worst behaved guest ever. And here I thought Malcolm had taught you manners, Basilton.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my teenage angst”

**…**

The knock on Niall and Dev’s door almost makes my heart stop.

I see them share a worried look before Dev walks to the door. Unsurprisingly, when he opens it, Bunce is behind it. “Come in before someone sees you,” Dev says as he opens the door wider and steps aside.

It’s only then that I can see Bunce, and the exhaustion I can see written all over her face only makes me worry more. Bunce is a strong girl, nothing ever seems to shake her. Perhaps because she’s used to tough situations, being best friends with this trouble magnet that Snow is.

Dev, probably driven by those gentlemanly manners that were forced upon him as a child, draws the chair from his desk and offers it for Bunce to sit on. She doesn’t even question his behaviour, and simply collapses on the chair.

“Do you want us to get out?” Dev asks.

“It’s your room, I can’t kick you out.”

“Well, Baz doesn’t have that kind of consideration, so if you want us gone, you can just tell _him_ to kick us out. I’m pretty sure he’d enjoy it.”

“I would.”

A faint smile tugs at Bunce’s lips as she shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says, waving her hand at us.

Her hand…

My eyes go wide when I see it, and I can’t hold back the shocked gasp that escapes my lips. Niall and Dev have a similar reaction, and it makes Bunce’s cheeks turn red.

“What happened to your hand?” I ask, my eyes still fixed on it.

It’s red and swollen, and she even has nast burn marks on the heel of her hand and her fingers.

“It’s nothing, Simon’s magic did that.”

“Snow’s magic? How is that possible?”

“Am I the only one who’s concerned?” Niall says, looking back and forth between Bune, Dev and I “Why didn’t you go heal that before coming here?”

“I forgot about it. It really doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“Niall is right, though, you should heal that,” I say as I stand up. I walk towards Bunce, and take my wand out of my pocket. “May I?”

She gives me a suspicious look. I don’t blame her. Why would she trust me with a wand pointed at her? 

However, she still gives me her hand. I take it carefully, making sure I don’t touch any of the injured parts, and then I cast a healing spell. Slowly, I see her skin go back to a paler color, and the swelling goes down. It takes a bit longer for her burn marks to disappear, but eventually, they do. I cast another spell, to reduce the pain, and then I let go of her hand. “Better?”

“Much. But I don’t like how your magic feels.”

“Pitche is the house of Fire, Bunce, what were you expecting,” I tell her with a smirk.

“Well, not that. But say, Basil, do you really think it’s smart healing _burns_ with your magic that feels like fire?” she answers, a smug look on her face to match mine.

“I must say it wasn’t brilliant on my part, but you didn’t stop me.”

Instead of going back on Dev’s bed, I take the chair of Niall’s desk and settle in front of Bunce. It feels more like we’re having a conversation. 

“Can you tell me how that happened, though? Snow’s magic burning your hand.”

“You’ve seen how he was right?”

“Glowing, you mean?”

She nods. “Yes. The glowing, that’s his magic escaping his body. When he’s getting very emotional, his magic gets a little crazy, which I suppose everyone already knows, but I’ve also noticed that when he’s going through something extremely challenging mentally and emotionally, his magic leaves his body, as if to shield him from the outside world. I think that it doesn’t understand that what is hurting Simon is inside and that there’s nothing it can do against it. It just tries to protect him. It does that by making him glow so much it hurts to look at him and burns to touch him. It’s only happened twice, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it happened _twice_ , you know?”

I hum. Once, it’s just Snow being Snow and causing phenomenons unheard of in the entire history of magic, nothing that extraordinary, he did a lot of unique, crazy things in the past couple of years.. Twice, it’s a little bit more worrying. The fact that something like this could for sure happen again is just another factor that makes him dangerous. 

As if Snow wasn’t dangerous enough as it is.

“Does the Mage know?”

Bunce’s whole expression changes to something shocked and worried, as if she hadn’t considered that at all. Crowley, and I thought she was the one with the brain cells in their little duo? Do they really not see the Mage as a threat at all? I know that Snow is a lost cause, he’s too trusting, but Bunce? Her family isn’t even that much in favour of the Mage. They just like him a bit better than they did my ancestors because he made Watford more accessible to magicians with low power. I thought she would be more wary of him, she’s a smart girl, and not nearly as blinded when it comes to the Mage as Snow is.

“I don’t think so,” she says, frowning. “I hope he won’t. He’s triggered Simon to go off before, I hate to think he would trigger him to let his magic out.”

He’s triggered Snow to _what_ now?

I’ve been with Snow when he went off before, in fifth year when I sent that chimera on him, it’s horrifying. He looks in so much pain before he crosses the line, and when he explodes… you’d think he’s _really_ exploding. I genuinely feared he wouldn’t make it out alive when he went off. 

I can’t believe the Mage would intentionally make him go through that. I can’t believe that is the man who’s supposed to care for Snow. 

It makes me sick.

“What do you mean when you say he triggered Snow to go off?”

“I didn’t witness it myself, but Simon was really shaken afterwards, when he came to find me. He told me that the Mage had taken him into the Wavering Woods, and he had started saying mean things to him. he didn’t elaborate on what he meant by “mean things” but I can only imagine. The Mage kept saying those things to him until Simon went off, and afterwards, he didn’t apologize, he just told him that he had to do that, to examine his behaviour before and as he goes off, that it was important, and then he sent Simon away. It was in second year.”

Second year… Merlin, Snow was such a little thing, in second year. We all were kids, of course, but Snow always seemed even more like a child. He was smaller, probably because he was malnourished his entire childhood -it makes my blood boil when I think about it- and he was especially more _innocent_. He saw more terrible things than the rest of us, with all those missions the Mage sent him on, but he still was one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. He always saw the beauty in things, never focused on the negative aspects of anything. It was like he saw the world through pink-coloured glasses. At the time it made me angry. I was mad at Simon Snow for being able to be so cheerful, even back then, I felt bitter all the time. Now I admire Snow’s foolish positivity. I’m moved by the way he finds joys in little things, like those stupid scones he loves so much that make him grin like an idiot when he sees them, or how excited he gets about the snow, during the winter. 

He is a child. A child who had to grow up too fast, and who desperately tries to cling to the things that make him happy not to let himself be overwhelmed by all the pain a life like his causes.

“Now you understand why I don’t want the Mage to know?” Bunce says, my concern probably obvious on my face. “Especially considering how much worse _this_ is compared to going off.”

“Is it really that bad?” I ask, but it sounds more like a complaint. 

Bunce must understand that I’m feeling guilty about our fight leading to Snow doing… that, whatever it is, because she leans in, to be closer to me, and tries to get me to look at her in the eyes. I don’t. I’m too ashamed.

“I’ll be honest, it is. When he goes off, it’s only for a short period of time, and once he’s gone off, it’s over. This… This magic shield, it’s a state, more than an action. It’s not something he does, it’s something he’s in, and it’s the result of great pain, fear, guilt, or whatever emotions it is that lead his magic to act up. And as he’s in this bubble of magic, he doesn’t feel those anymore, he doesn’t feel _anything_ , it seems similar to a sort of coma to me, except it’s a coma he can be woken up from with a little outside help and effort on his part. But he _does_ need help, and if the Mage is the one who causes him to shield himself in that way, I hardly believe he’ll hold his hand and tell him encouraging things until he comes back to reality afterwards, you know?”

“He’ll probably just leave him on his own wherever he took him to experiment on him. It’s not like that bastard fucking cares.”

I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but apparently, I have, because Bunce looks at me, her eyes full of unanswered questions. The little blood I have in me rushes to my cheeks. I think it’s probably too late to pretend I don’t care about Snow anyway, not after I sent the note and after all the questions I just asked, but I would have liked to keep some semblance of dignity. 

“While you _do_ care Basilton, don’t you?” Bunce asks, but there’s no malice in her voice. She’s not trying to use it against me, I don’t think so. I’m not sure Bunce is the kind of person who’d use someone’s feelings to hurt them. She’s not me.

From the corner of my eyes, I can see the worried glances Dev and Niall shoot at me, probably wondering what I’ll answer and what’ll come of it.

I don’t know what will come of it. But I choose honesty nonetheless. I doubt Bunce is going to tell it to Snow anyway. Once again, she doesn’t strike me as the type to do that.

“Yes. I do care for him.”

**…**

**Penny**

I can’t really say that’s unexpected.

Baz and Simon have been obsessed with each other for as long as they’ve _known_ each other. No one pays that much attention to someone they hate, nor spends so much time thinking about them. I’ve been considering that there must be something else under that apparent hate, for a long time already. It’s only last year that I accidentally got evidence that Basil felt something deeper for Simon. I’m not really proud to admit it, but after a particularly tough mission, Simon was feeling really low and I didn’t want to leave him alone, but I couldn’t stay at Mummers, so instead, I cast a surveillance spell on his part of the room. This way, if anything happened to him, or if he needed me, I’d know it. 

I didn’t expect to be subjected to such a sight ; Baz Pitch wiping the sweat off of Simon’s face and neck with a flannel and running his hands through his curls while he was having a nightmare to pacify him before Simon could wake up, crying and shaking. Most surprising, even, I saw him leaningdown, as if to kiss Simon’s forehead once he was calm, but retreating before his lips could touch his skin, and going back to his bed. 

Simon never talked to me about it, so I suppose he really _was_ sleeping and didn’t notice Baz’s presence, except for the soothing effects it had on him. 

So really, I’m not surprised that he cares for Simon. I’m surprised he _said_ he cares for Simon. I didn’t think for a second he’d admit it, I thought he'd just tell me he didn’t, that he was just curious about what happened. 

It’s strange, really, to hear Baz Pitch talk about feelings, but I’m the one who asked after all.

“Then, I think I should tell you, that’s no way to treat someone you care about. And clearly, you know how to treat people with decency, you wouldn’t have friends, otherwise,” I say, tilting my head in Dev and Niall’s direction. “I completely understand that you were… upset about Simon’s mission. If I was in your situation, I’d be too.”

“What do you mean my ‘situation’?”

“Don’t act stupid, we both know you’re not. You know exactly what I mean, I don’t need to spell it out for you.”

“I think you do need to spell it out, though.”

It’s a challenge. He wants to see if I’ll mention his feelings, whatever they are, for Simon, or the fact that he is a vampire. If I’ll have the guts to accuse him that, without any kind of real evidence, in front of his friends. 

I’m not one to back down from a challenge, though. “You’re a vampire.”

“Ah, those words, how much I’ve heard them. Snow is really fond of them, but I didn’t think you would be too. The two of you really are determined to see me as a monster, aren’t you?”

“It’s not a question of ‘seeing you as a monster’, Baz. I don’t think you’re a monster. But you _are_ a vampire. There’s just no way you aren’t. You wouldn’t have survived the attack on Watford if the vampires hadn’t turned you.” Something flashes in his eyes, like surprise and a little bit of pain. “That’s all the evidence I have, but that’s all the evidence I need. So if you could please stop pretending. Especially considering that it’s _because_ you are a vampire and the woman Simon was told to kill was one too that you talked to him the way you did and made him feel so distraught he ended up in that situation.”

“Are you seriously blaming me because your friend felt bad when I told him killing people is wrong? Is that what’s happening right now?”

I roll my eyes. “Basil. Please. Simon told me what happened during his mission. He also told me the things you both said when you argued. He told you he tried to stop the Mage, there was nothing else he could do. You’ve been unfair with him, and I think you know it. I understand why, though, so I’m not blaming you for the violence of your words, I simply think that the two of you should talk, seriously, and without fighting. He needs to tell you what happened exactly, and I think you need to hear it. It’ll be better for the two of you to sort this out. This woman’s death is obviously tragic, but no amount of blaming himself on Simon’s part or blaming him on your part is going to bring her back or make the deep rooted hatred the Mage, and many other mages, feel for vampires disappear. Simon will always have her death on his conscience, and you’ll always have to watch your every move if you don’t want to end up being killed for who you are ; it’s cruel and unfair, but it’s just the way it is.”


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon have a much needed conversation about what truly happened during Simon’s mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i post this, i just finished writing another chapter of this fic (chapter eleven) and i’m low key ashamed of it because it’s mostly a big mess not really relevant to the plot but i low key like that it’s a mess. it was fun to write something i didn’t take as seriously as the rest   
> this has nothing to do with this chapter i just wanted to mention it

**The Mage**

_ Simon wasn’t in class this morning. _

_ This boy is so fragile. He had the entire weekend to collect himself, and he’s still whining.  _

_ Such a disappointment.  _

_ I tried to toughen him up, all those years, but he’s still so emotional, just like his mother was.  _

_ I always succeeded in getting Lucy back on my side, as loyal to me as she was in the beginning, even when I thought she had reached the limit of her naive trust, I should be able to do the same thing with Simon.  _

**...**

**Baz**

Snow doesn’t show up in any of our classes this morning.

When he didn’t come to Political Science, I thought it was simply because he had overslept, or because he couldn’t be bothered going to this particular class, even though both of those options are very unlike Snow. The nightmare is up at the crack of dawn every day -I know it, he wakes me up all the time because he’s a clumsy idiot who can’t take his clothes to the en suite without knocking half of the furniture in the room- and he never skips class unless he is away from school or passed out in the infirmary. 

But then when I went to Elocution and he wasn’t here, it all started being really suspicious.

Now it’s lunchtime and he isn’t stuffing his mouth while talking to Bunce -yes,  _ while  _ talking, he has no manners. There’s  _ definitely _ something wrong.

Is he still suffering from the aftermath of this thing he did with his magic? Merlin I hope he’s not.

I head to Bunce’s table, where she’s currently sitting alone. Sometimes, Wellbelove eats with her, but I suppose, today is not one of these days. Maybe it’s because Wellbelove only has lunch with them when Snow is here, as the perfect little girlfriend she is.

I don’t want to think about that.

“Basil, what do I owe the pleasure?” Bunce asks, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees me coming her way.

I sit at her table, quite close so that I can whisper -I don’t want to risk eavesdropping- while still being heard by her. Because of my own enhanced hearing, I whisper  _ very  _ softly which makes it rather hard for people who are not undead creatures to hear me. 

Fuck the stupid comments Niall and Dev will make about my proximity to Bunce, they’re pricks anyway.

“Why wasn’t Snow in class this morning?” 

“I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself.”

I don’t feel like playing her games right now. I want to know for sure why Snow isn’t here. I want to know if he’s just tired or if he is  _ in pain. _

“Bunce.”

She puts her fork down. “He’s completely drained, he needs to rest.”

“When you say drained, what do you mean exactly?”

“I mean he’s literally drained. His magic doesn’t work, at all. It’s not that he can’t use it well like usual, he just can’t use it  _ at all. _ It’s rather strange because it’s not something that happened last time, but I’m not too worried. Strange things always happen with Simon, and his magic stayed outside of his body much longer yesterday, so I suppose that’s why.”

Her calm facing that whole situation makes me shiver. It’s less frightening than her  _ not  _ being calm, but it’s still unsettling how Bunce can talk about the bizarre and honetly quite concerning things that happen to Snow like it’s nothing. 

“And also, he’s just exhausted. I spelled him asleep last night to make sure he would sleep, but he told me the spell wore off quickly and he didn’t get more than a nap, and then couldn’t fall asleep again. Which is why I spelled him asleep  _ again  _ when I visited him this morning.”

I should probably feel some kind of way about Bunce coming and going to my room at her leisure, but I know she does it for Snow so I don’t mind too much. 

“You can go see him if you’re so worried, you know,” she says teasingly. “It’s your room too after all, I’m sure you can find an excuse to go there.” She pats my arm patronisingly. “Go, Basilton, I know you want to. Simon doesn’t bite, I promise,” she says with a clearly amused look on her face.

Vampire jokes? Really? 

I mean I’m used to them. I spend half of my time with Dev. But I didn’t expect one from Bunce.

I give her my best glare. She’s not impressed. “Shoo, I want to have lunch in peace.”

The mortified look on my face makes her grin.

I can’t believe Penelope Bunce just _ shooed me _ . I think she’s getting a bit too comfortable with me since I told her I like her friend.

**…**

When I arrive in front of Snow’s and my room, I hesitate.

I want to see him so badly. To know how he’s doing. To get a fucking explanation about his mission. 

To see with my own two eyes that he’s breathing and moving and not frozen in place, hugging his knees and staring into space or throwing his guts up.

But at the same time I’m afraid to. I don’t want to see him being miserable. I don’t want to look at him and be reminded that he was on a mission to  _ kill a fucking vampire  _ only a couple of days ago. 

I keep weighing up the pros and cons until I eventually decide to stop being ridiculous and open the door. 

My eyes immediately fly to Snow’s bed, where he’s lying down, sleeping. 

I’m a little disappointed, honestly. I was expecting to  _ talk  _ to him, but Bunce said he needed to rest, and I think he does too, so I suppose I should be glad he’s taking a nap. 

Besides, I have class in half an hour and no real reason to skip it if I’m just watching Snow sleep, even though, admittedly, catching glimpses of his beautiful face, relaxed as he sleeps, sounds like a much more tempting way to spend the afternoon than listening to teachers telling me things I already know and trying to give more right answers than Bunce. And it’s not like any of my teachers will say anything if I don’t go to class. The Mage may be the current Headmaster, I’m a Pitch, and Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s son, they respect  _ -fear _ , but that’s pretty much the same thing- me more than they do him. Most people in the World of Mage expect me to replace the Mage and get the Pitches back at the head of Watford when I’ll be older, which if I’m completely honest, I’m tempted to do just to get that fucker out of my mother’s office.

Whatever. It won’t hurt me to miss a few classes, so I suppose I’ll indulge myself with an afternoon in my room with Snow. 

However, to have a clear conscience, I decide to do homework instead of just staying there looking at Snow like a creep or scrolling endlessly through my phone.

**…**

I’ve done half of the first draft of my Political Science essay when I hear the change in Snow’s breathing that means he’s waking up. I do my best to stay focused on my work and not look at him.

“Baz?” he says after a few seconds, his voice sleepy and confused. “What are you doing here.”

“It’s my room.” I’m still not looking up from my notes.

“Yeah but you went to Dev and Niall’s,” he says as he sits up against the wall so that he’s facing my bed. I’m still not looking at him, but I can see him from the corner of my eye. “Penny told me. So why are you here? Are you… Are you still mad at me?”

I swear, he’s a child. Mordelia once had the exact same voice after she broke the screen of my laptop.

**…**

**Simon**

Crowley what a stupid fucking question. Of course he’s still mad at me. He’s got every right to be. 

Penny says that’s not exactly true and that Baz overreacted but Penny can be a bit insensitive sometimes.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it sounds sincere. He even finally decides to look at me. It’s weird. I’m not used to Baz being sincere. “I had a little chat with Bunce. She told me a lot of things that made sense and made me realize that I may have been too harsh on you. I didn’t let you explain exactly what happened on your mission, I got angry at you and judged you for what I thought you had done instead of trying to find out what you had really done. That was wrong of me.”

Baz apologized to me - or at least, the closest thing from an apology I’ll ever get from Baz Pitch- and he even practically said he was wrong. 

This is a historic day.

It’s wrong though. As much as I enjoy seeing Baz holding himself accountable for his actions, he has nothing to be held accountable for. His reaction made sense. Mine would probably have been worse if the roles were reversed.

“I don’t think it was. Wrong I mean.”

“Snow. Keep in mind that my opinion is always more relevant than yours. If I say it was wrong, it’s that it was. But I can take it back if it bothers you so much that I try to be decent with you.”

Ah, he’s back to being a prick. It didn’t take long.

I roll my eyes at him. “Since when do you try to be decent with me, anyway?”

“Since now, I suppose. It’s only so that your magic won’t go crazy again while I’m in the room. I’m not particularly looking forward to having a miniature sun near me.”

“You… You saw me like that?”

**…**

**Baz**

His eyes go wide as he says it. 

Crowley, he really didn’t see us? 

“Yes. How do you think Bunce knew to come help you?”

He looks confused. He wiggles until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, right in front of where I’m sitting on mine. “So, wait,” he’s moving his hands as he speaks. It’s endearing. “You came to the room, saw me like that, and then warned Penny that she had to come take care of me?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Why?”

I frown “Why what?”

“Why would you warn Penny? Why not just let me like this? It would have saved you a lot of trouble, letting my magic destroy me?” As he says it, he glances down at his arms, and only now do I notice the reddish tint of his skin, especially that of his arms. It would make sense that his magic would hurt him too, if it burnt Bunce to touch him, there’s no way the heat of it would have been bearable for him, but it’s not something I had considered. Crowley, the more I learn about Snow’s magic shield, the worse I feel for being part of the reason he needed it in the first place. “I just don’t understand why you’re acting like that. Since I’ve got back, you’ve been awful to me, and then nice, then awful again, and now you’re ‘trying to be decent’ as you said. It makes no damn sense.”

Thank you, Snow, for reminding me that you can only envision my kindness to you as something that doesn’t make sense and that you should be suspicious of because we could never be anything else than enemies. 

In moments like that, I just want to drop the act and tell him that I never hated him, not really, that I’m tired of fighting him all the time, that I care about him. That I’m _ in love _ with him.

But I can’t do that, so instead I do what I do best : I keep pretending.

“I couldn’t let your magic hurt you. That’s  _ my  _ vocation.”

“Ah. Yeah. I course. It’s because you want to kill me yourself.  _ That  _ makes sense.”

I think I can hear bitterness in his voice, but that’s probably just my stupid heart trying to make me believe Snow wants to stop fighting as much as I do. Snow doesn’t want to stop fighting. Snow is a soldier -fuck the Mage for that- fighting is what he does. 

“If you’re done attempting to analyse my behaviour, would you mind answering a question?”

“What question?”

The way he clears his throat and looks away from me before he says it shows me that he knows what question, and that it makes him uncomfortable. Good. I’d much rather see  _ him  _ feeling uneasy than being the one who is.

“What exactly was your mission, and what happened to Emmeline Hale?”

“Is that her name?”

Well, that’s not the reaction I expected.

“Yes. You mean to tell me that you participated in her murder in some way and you don’t even know her bloody name?”

But of course he doesn’t. She was just one more  _ creature  _ for him.

He looks down at his joined hands. His thumbs are rolling around each other. “The Mage didn’t tell me. He didn’t tell me anything about her, really. I… Do you want the full story?”

“I have all day. Carry on, Snow, and don’t miss any detail.” I say as I move my legs to sit in a position more similar to his, except for the fact that he’s slouching while I’m sitting perfectly straight, my legs crossed at the knee.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. I watch the rise and fall of his shoulders as he prepares himself to speak. He looks like there’s an invisible burden resting on them. The weight of his guilt, probably. “So when I arrived at Watford, I went to our room like usual,” I pretend not to notice the way my heart jumps in my chest when he says  _ our  _ room. I know that technically, it’s something we share and that therefore, it is ours, but it feels so much more personally to hear him talk about it as  _ our _ room and not his and my room. It’s a silly detail, but my heart craves any sort of positive feeling it can get from this nightmare it decided to fall in love with. “And the Mage was there. He said he had a mission for me and that I had to get ready immediately. It was a bit weird, he usually lets me stay at Watford for some time so that I can, you know, start living like a normal person again. I’m a bit useless when I come back after the summer. But this time, he decided to make me go right before school started again. So I went. There’s not much else I could do. He drove me all the way to Yorkshire, booked me a hotel room for a week, and only then did he explain my mission. He gave me a photo of the vampire, I mean Emmeline, told me that she lived in this village, and said that I had to watch her for a few days to study her habits and then to… to kill her. I… I didn’t want to, she looked so  _ human _ , but the Mage wouldn’t listen to me. He said that she was dangerous, like all those of her “species”.” He mimes quotation marks with his hands, and casts a glance at me as he says that. I don’t react. “And he left before I could argue any more. After that, I did follow the first part of his instructions. The watching her thing. I just… I wanted to know if she killed people, you know? Because if she did… Well… I… I would understand why the Mage would want her dead. But like, I  _ know  _ that vampires can survive on animal blood alone.” Once again, he looks at me. Crowley. This time I hold his gaze, as if to dare him to continue down this road, until he blushes. “So yeah, I wanted to know how she fed. And… it was… strange. I saw her… drink from humans. But the thing is, she didn’t kill them, which makes no sense because I thought vampires had to drain the thing they were feeding from, but uh, I guess they don’t, because the mortals she bite always walked away right after and they looked like they’d just experienced something wonderful. They didn’t look like a vampire just sunk her fangs into their neck.” 

Snow’s voice gets a little bit softer by the end of his sentence, and he pauses. I know it’s to give me time to integrate the piece of information he just gave me, because it’s Snow and he has never pretended not to know I was a vampire -on the contrary, he was very fucking open about how sure he is of it- no matter how much I denied it. It’s oddly considerate of him, because I bloody well need some time right now. Emmeline Hale bit humans but didn’t drain them. It’s possible for a vampire, a young one on top of that, she’d only been turned a couple of weeks ago, to drink human blood without taking all the blood of the person they’re drinking from. It’s possible to fucking feed without  _ killing.  _ I feel a little light headed. 

Unfortunately, the pause in Snow’s narration ends as he resumes talking. “So after I saw that she didn’t hurt anyone, I really didn’t want to kill her, you know? She was just living her life, she didn’t deserve to die. And… and on top of that she… Fuck,” he swears, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms so hard he probably sees little white dots. “She had a bloody kid. A little boy, probably six or seven. She was wonderful with him.” His voice is trembling. I desperately want to cross the distance between us and take him in my arms. “I couldn’t take his mum away from that kid. I couldn’t. She seemed to be a good woman, and a good mother, I couldn’t fucking kill her. So I… I found excuses. Side missions, to delay the moment I’d have to… to face her. But the Mage got fed up with that after three weeks, so he came to Yorkshire. He yelled at me for a while, told me a lot of nasty things, and then… then he just… left the room. And I didn’t understand where he was going immediately, but once I did I… I ran after him. But…” He’s close to tears, his voice rendered hoarse by the knot in his throat. He looks so fucking in pain. “It was too late. Her house was already burning, with her and her kid in it. The Mage was watching the fire and he looked… satisfied. It made me sick. He wasn’t paying attention to me so I rushed inside and I… I looked for the kid. I knew it was too later for her already, but if I could save her boy, I fucking would. My magic was shielding me the whole time, but not in the way it did here yesterday, in a good way. In a way I could almost control, like I had cast a protection spell on myself. When I found the boy, he wasn’t in the house, but in the garden, knocking on the glass door like crazy. He was crying and I… I think his mum locked him outside when she saw the fire, you know? She did what she could to keep him safe. So I opened the door, and I took the kid with me. He was in such a state of shock, he didn’t react, he just let me carry him through the burning house -my magic was around us, the fire wouldn’t hurt us. Then, when I left the house, I saw the Mage and he still had this disgusting glee written all over his face, which is probably the only reason he didn’t start yelling at me again. I asked him about the kid, because we couldn’t fucking leave him here, but the Mage said that the boy didn’t matter and he took his wand out and that’s all I remember, so I guess he spelled me unconscious so that I wouldn’t be a nuisance.” Tears are freely rolling down his cheeks now, and he sniffs sometimes, but he controls his voice and sobs enough that I can understand everything he says. And fuck, I wish I didn’t.

I never saw the Mage in a positive light, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stand in the same room as him without setting the motherfucker on fire, to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

I also feel like shit for the way I treated Snow about this whole situation, even more than I did before, because now I know that he didn’t kill her, that he didn’t  _ want  _ to kill her, and that her death has impacted him so much. 

He buries his face in his hands, letting go in a way he couldn’t when he was talking, his entire body shaking because of those heart-wrenching sobs that keep coming and coming and coming. He sounds and looks more tortured every second.

Fuck it.

Fuck the fact that we’re supposed to be enemies and hate each other.

I run to him, and put my arms around him to hold him close. The moment our bodies touch, I feel something like a rush of static on every part of me that’s in contact with him, like electricity coursing through my entire body, and then the electricity turns into something bigger, headier. 

Flames.

This fire feels like power. It makes me feel on top of the world, invincible. I embrace it.

And I burn. 

  
  
  



	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon share magic  
> Things gets softer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been writing too much angst for too many days in a row when I wrote that so I went for something softer, those boys deserve it  
> They can have some fluff, as a treat

**Simon**

I just let myself feel it. I’m not sure what’s happening right now, but I don’t want it to end. I feel my magic leaving my body, but it’s not uncomfortable like when it swallows me whole. My magic is always too much, or it’s nothing at all, like it was before Baz touched me when it wasn’t working, but right now, as it rushes to every part of me that’s connected to Baz, it feels manageable. Is that how magic feels like to other mages? Not oppressive, not like something that takes up too much space inside, not like a time bomb?

I gaze up at Baz, and the look of pure ecstasy on his face takes my breath away. His eyes are shining, his lips parted and his cheeks are even faintly pink, something extremely rare for him -because he’s a vampire. “This is spectacular,” he says under his breath.

“How does it feel?”

I should probably be more worried about my magic coursing through Baz Pitch’s body, but it’s good, it’s so good, and he looks so beautiful. For all I care, he could bloody well take all of my magic.

“It feels like I have the entire universe between my hands. I think I could cast a sonnet.”

He giggles. He sounds drunk, drunk on power. Drunk on _my_ power. It’s a heady feeling, knowing I’m the reason he looks like that. 

He’s moved away, a little bit, not quite hugging me anymore -Baz Pitch was _hugging me,_ Crowley- but simply holding onto my arms, on his knees in front of me. His face is at the same level as mine and I can’t get my fill of him. He looks glorious. 

“Don’t cast anything.”

Because as good as it feels, it’s still my magic, and I know nothing more unpredictable than my magic. I don’t want it to fuck up and hurt him. 

“Why?” he whines. “Please Simon, your magic makes me feel so powerful, let me use it.”

My name is so beautiful on his lips, with this stupid posh accent of his. I always thought he sounded a bit ridiculous when he talked. I was wrong. It’s just lovely. So lovely.

“You don’t even have your wand, silly.”

“I could cast wandless, I’m sure I could. Let me.”

His eyes get a little crazy, and suddenly, what felt good starts feeling too much. It always ends up feeling too much with my magic. “I have to pull back.”

“No, don’t,” he says, gripping my arms more tightly, so much so that it hurts. 

He looked strong and powerful mere seconds ago. Now he looks like a maniac. 

“I’m pulling back,” I whisper, and I focus on my magic, to make it come back to me. It burns more than usual, as if the fire of Baz’s magic had affected it. 

As it flows back inside me, I see the look on Baz’s face change progressively, the power leaving him, until everything comes back to normal. He doesn’t snatch his hands away from me as I expected, he leaves them there, resting on my biceps.

“How did you do that?” he asks, a little breathless. 

“I didn’t. I think you did. My magic… it had stopped working, it was like it wasn’t there anymore, but when you touched me… it felt like you opened a tap that made my magic flow inside you.”

“I still think you’re the one who did that. You’re always the one who does strange, unheard of things,” he says, and it sounds almost tender.

His hands leave my arms, and I think the moment, this fragile, wonderful moment, is broken, but instead of retreating, Baz puts his hands against my jaw, wiping something on my cheeks with his thumbs. Tears.

I don’t remember why I was crying. I don’t even remember the fact that I was crying in the first place. I remember nothing except the bliss I could see written all over Baz’s face and the feeling of my magic not being a burden. 

“It’s always my fault with you.”

“It’s always your fault, full stop,” he says with the shadow of a smile. There’s no bite to his words, he’s just teasing, I think.

He must be so high on magic. Or maybe this is that part of Baz that wants to be decent with me shining through his usual unpleasant persona. 

Whatever it is, I don’t want it to end.

And I don’t want him to let go of my face.

**…**

**Baz**

Maybe I should take my hands off him. 

I shouldn’t have touched him like that in the first place. Wiping the tears off his cheeks, honestly? I’m a fucking disaster.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, so maybe I can indulge in the feeling of his warm skin under mine…

No. That’s a terrible idea. Because if I don’t retreat on my own, he’ll eventually push me back and I’m not sure I can handle rejection right now. Not after what we shared. I still feel a bit lightheaded when I think about how incredible it was to have Snow’s magic rushing into me. 

Reluctantly, I slowly make my hands slide along his jaw, until they’re not touching him anymore. I miss the contact immediately. 

Apparently Snow does though. As I’m about to let my arms fall back along my body, he reaches for them, his fingers circling my wrists. “No.”

He blushes immediately, his whole face turning red. “I’m sorry, I just… It felt nice,” he mumbles, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

Kill me now. 

Does he always say every fucking thing that goes through his head?

“Anyway.” He clears his throat, taking his hands back and slipping them between his thigh, as if to physically refrain them from moving. “Could you… erm… tell me more about how it felt? You know, when we shared magic.”

“Why?”

Sometimes I really should shut up. Snow wants to talk to me. _Talk._ Not fight. I should just fucking enjoy it. It probably won’t last long.

“I’m just curious,” Snow shrugs. “It’s okay if you want to keep it to yourself, but, well, I’m not used to my magic doing something that’s not bad so it’s kind of exciting, you know.”

“Fine.”

He smiles happily at that. Merlin. 

I stand up, my knees a bit sore from supporting my weight for so long, and go back to my bed, convincing myself that the disappointed look I think I see on his face is just an hallucination. 

**…**

**Simon**

I wish he’d sat on my bed. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Wait a minute,” I tell him before opening the bottom drawer of my desk. I rummage through it until I feel what I’m looking for. “Catch.”

I throw a bag of crisps at Snow.

As the clumsy idiot he is, he misses it, his hands clapping against each other instead of closing around it. “Ah, so you _do_ hide crisps in here, you finally admit it.”

I’m pretty sure he would have sounded less smug if I had told him I’m a vampire. I roll my eyes at him. “I just assumed I should give you something to eat before your stomach starts screaming for food. I don’t want to deal with an angry Snow.

“Of course,” he groans, grabbing the bag of chips and opening it loudly. He scrunches his nose. “That thing smells so gross.”

“Well you don’t have to eat it, but it’s all I have to give so it’s your best option right now.”

“I didn’t say it tasted gross.” As if to prove his point, he throws a couple of crisps inside his mouth, chewing on them as he continues “Though, really, it doesn’t taste that good. I don’t get how you eat that when you could get such better snacks. But I suppose I should have guessed that someone who eats rats has terrible taste.”

“I don’t eat rats.”

Technically, it’s not a lie. I drink their blood, it’s not the same thing.

“Yes you do.”

“I really don’t. And Aleister Crowley, stop talking with your mouth full. It’s disgusting. Do you have no manners?”

“Fuck off Baz.” He proceeds to open his mouth even more as he chews. He’s a nuisance. A cute one, but still a nuisance.

“Just shut up and listen to me. You asked me a question, after all, the least you can do is letting me answer it.”

“Go on, then. Answer the question.”

He plunges his hand inside the bag of crisps, grabbing some while looking at me expectantly. You’d think he was watching a very interesting movie. 

I clear my throat. “It’s actually rather difficult to explain, the way your magic felt. When we touched, it felt like electricity, and then, like fire.” He smiles when I say that. “What? What did I say?”

“It’s always fire with you, huh?”

“I’m a Pitch. So yes, it’s always fire with me, as you say. Can I continue without being rudely interrupted?”

“Eight snakes, you’re such a prick.”

“What else is new? Now shut up and let me finish. So. That’s what I felt when your magic started… entering me. Then, it was like I was on top of the world. I’m not sure there’s any other way to describe it. I’ve never felt this powerful. It was like my entire being was magic. Magic wasn’t just a part of me, it was _all_ of me. I felt invincible. It also felt a little bit like being drunk, but only the good aspects of being drunk. Overall, it was amazing. Is that how you always feel? So full of magic?”

He takes a few seconds to think about it, furrowing his bronze eyebrows. “Well, kind of, but not really at the same time. It does feel like I’m full of magic, but when you describe it, it just sounds good while my magic doesn’t feel that good. It even feels a bit stifling at times, especially when I try to use it. The best way to describe how my magic feels is ‘too much’, I guess.”

In that way, it suits you, Simon Snow. You’re always too much too. 

“But,” he continues. “When my magic was flowing out, it felt… Manageable. Like I could cast a spell without fucking it up.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” I say a bit sadly. 

I made fun of Snow a lot for his inability to use magic, but after seeing for myself how overwhelming -though in a good way, in my opinion- it can feel, I understand why he may not be able to control it. 

“Well, that’s not how it feels for me. Guess that’s why I’m such a shit mage,” he chuckles.

“Maybe you’re such a shit mage because you haven’t been taught well. Your dear Mage may have changed Watford rules to accept a wider range of students, he didn’t change the syllabus. The classes we have here are made for powerful, gifted mages. If your level of power is average or if you never learnt to control your magic before school, you’re probably not going to do great. Maybe if you were taught in a way that’s adapted to you, you’d be a better mage.”

I can’t believe I’m criticizing the education they give us at Watford. My entire family built that system carefully for centuries and I’m openly condemning it for a pretty boy. I’m a disgrace.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But it’s not like it’s necessary. Me going off like a bomb is what we need during the war against the Humdrum, and I won’t need magic that much after school. I know how to live without it, it’s what I’ve done my whole life when I’m not at Watford.”

I frown. “Even now? Don’t you use your magic during the summer?”

What kind of freak stops doing magic when they’re not at Watford? Magic is even greater when you’re _not_ restricted by Watford rules. 

“It would be kind of suspicious if I took my wand out in front of the Normals wouldn’t it?”

“The Normals? What Normals?”

“Well, those at the care homes,” he says like it’s obvious.

But it’s not. It’s really not.

“You mean to tell me that you go back to those Normal places during the summer? I thought you stayed with the Mage, or with Wellbelove or Bunce.”

A wave of sadness passes across his face. It makes my heart clench inside my chest.

“The Mage says he’s too busy to take care of me over the summers, the Wellbeloves go on holidays abroad so they don’t want to burden themselves with me, and Penny’s mum doesn’t like me much because I’m too dangerous, so she doesn’t want me in her house. So yeah, I go back to the care homes. That way, I’m not bothering anyone, and since I don’t use my magic, there’s less risk that I cause problems or attract monsters, so I guess it’s for the best.”

It’s absolutely fucking not.

I can’t believe the Mage sends him back to the Normal world every summer. I suppose it’s good that he doesn’t keep Simon with him, it would just mean he has two whole months with Snow to manipulate him without Bunce here to make that idiot question the words of his precious mentor, but he could at least let him stay at Watford. The cook can stay here during the holidays if the Headmaster asks. I would know, my mum usually stayed at Watford two weeks after the end of the year and two weeks before the start of the new year. I always loved the time of the holidays at Watford for that reason when I was little ; it was when my mother took me with her, since she would obviously not do it when the students were here -though I don’t think anyone would have said anything about it ; she was Natasha Grimm-Pitch, no one had the nerve to tell her she couldn’t do something. 

So really, I don’t understand why the Mage wouldn’t let Snow stay here. He could practise his magic on his own, which would be good because, in one hand, he wouldn’t hurt anyone while doing so, and on the other hand, it would probably have helped him to work on his spellwork without teachers -or me- stressing him out.

“Anyway,” he says, bringing my attention back to the conversation. “Do you have any more crisps? Now that I’ve eaten some, I’m hungry” he says, putting the empty bag of crisps on his desk. I can’t believe he’s already eaten it all. However, I can totally believe that he might want more. His stomach is an endless well. 

I know that, even if he is probably truly hungry, it’s also just a way to avoid the topic, but I suppose I can’t blame him for that. It must be hard on him, not seeing his friends or the Mage during the summer and being alone in the Normal world.

“Baz. The crisps. Do you have any? Can I have some”

“Crowley Snow, wait a minute you savage,” I say before I open my food stash again. It’s mostly bags of salt and vinegar crisps and dark chocolate. I usually have a rather sweet tooth, but I can’t bring myself to eat chocolate that isn’t dark if I get to choose. It’s the only valid kind of chocolate, though I’m sure that Snow, having the taste buds of a child, wouldn’t agree on that. I decide to prove that theory, so I take one of the chocolate bars out of my drawer and once again I throw it at Snow.

He misses it again.

“Bastard! You have chocolate and you gave me those stupid crisps? And it’s dark! It’s my favourite!”

“I could have given you nothing at all. It’s _my_ food. Next time I’ll let you starve to death.”

“Next time?” he says with a stupid grin. I want to kiss it off his face. “Are you planning on having more of those chats with me, Basilton? Be careful, I might start thinking you don’t want to be my mortal enemy anymore.”

I don’t, love. I haven’t in a long time. It’s just easier.

I don’t say that. Especially the love part. Crowley, if Snow knew I call him pet names in my head, he’d probably run to the Mage to beg him for another room again. I’m sure the fucker would agree, if Snow wanted a new room not because he felt threatened by me being a vampire, but because he felt threatened by me being _gay_.

I don’t have any kind of evidence for or against this but I have this gut feeling that the Mage would be homophobic. Must be that silly mustache of his. Or maybe it’s because I hate the guy. 

“And what if I don’t want to be your mortal enemy anymore?”

He freezes as he bites into the chocolate -he didn’t even cut it, just took a bite directly from the bar because he’s got the manners of a troll. 

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.

“You don’t?”

“Forget I said anything.”

“No, no, I quite like what you said.”

Wait, what?

“You do?” I ask, arching one of my eyebrows. He hates when I do that because he doesn’t know how to do it. He tried once and he just ended up raising both, which was absolutely adorable. I made fun of him about it for weeks.

“Yeah,” he says, blushing. “I mean, it’s kind of nice, you not being a dick, you know? You… The other day in the en suite, and now… I like that Baz. I wish I could see more of him.”

 _I like that Baz_. Snow said ‘like’ and my name in the same sentence, and it’s not to say he’d like me better if I had his sword through my heart. I might faint. 

“Baz? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t, I’m just… Surprised. Not being an arsehole was never an option I envisionned,” I lie. I’m so full of shit. Not being an arsehole to Snow is all I’ve been thinking about since I realized I loved him. “So what would happen if I wasn’t isn’t something I considered either. I never thought you could like me, even if I was… nicer.”

That much is true. What is there to like in me anyway?

“Well, I think I could,” he says, and the smile he gives me is brighter than the fucking sun **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it!  
> comments are always appreciated!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mage asks to see Simon  
> Some more fluff

**Baz**

Since my life sucks, a flying note comes and ruins the moment. Fuck, I can’t even enjoy Simon Snow telling me he could like me in peace. 

Though honestly, I might need the time to collect myself. It’s all quite overwhelming.

**…**

**Simon**

The little origami bird lands on my lap. I don’t want to open it. I know it comes from the Mage, he always sends me bird notes when he can’t be bothered coming to Mummers to talk to me directly. 

“Are you going to open it or not?” Baz asks.

“I’m scared.”

I’m not sure why I say it. Probably because it’s the truth. 

I suppose if I want to be friends with Baz, I have to be able to be honest with him. I almost expect him to just go back to being Baz and tell me something mean or make fun of me, but instead, he stands up and before I can really understand what’s going on, he’s sitting next to me. “Do you want me to read it and tell you what it says?”

Do I? 

He’s still Baz. Whatever the Mage told me, I’m not sure I want Baz to know it. 

No.

If I want Baz not to be an arsehole, I mustn't be one to him. 

“Yeah I think I’d like that,” I answer, taking the bird in my hand to give it to him.

“It’s from the Mage, right?” he asks softly. 

I never thought I’d qualify the way Baz is talking to me as soft, but here we are I guess.

“Yes.”

Who else would send me a note anyway? Aggie and I don’t talk that much, and Penny would just come to the room instead of spelling an origami bird to deliver her message for her. 

Baz opens the note carefully, making sure not to rip it. I would not have been so considerate with it. The paper the Mage use for those notes is so thin, I almost always mess up when I open it, but of course, perfect fucking Baz Pitch and his musician’s fingers can undo the origami properly.

I purposely look away as he reads whatever the Mage wrote. “Crowley, his handwriting is illegible,” he complains.

“I’m used to seeing it now but at first I was so confused when he’d write something to me. It was strange to see a handwriting worse than mine.”

“It’s strange for me too. Your handwriting is absolutely terrible. The teachers must hate reading your papers for your handwriting even more than for their content, and that says a lot.”

“I thought we agreed you would stop being a prick,” I groan. 

“I never said that.”

“Just read the bloody note, Pitch.”

“Patience is a virtue, Snow,” he says, clearly making fun of me. Bastard. “Eat the chocolate and leave me alone, I’m trying to decipher what’s written. I might need the rosetta stone to be able to understand, though.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic all the time.”

I’m not looking at him but I can tell he just glanced at me. “You know what the rosetta stone is?”

“I’m not as stupid as you think, you know. Read the note.”

He lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh, because he  _ is  _ so fucking dramatic all the time. Then, he shuts up for a few seconds, until “That’s it, I’ve read it. It’s nothing to worry about. Do you want me to read it to you now?”

No. I don’t want to know. I want to ignore he said anything and go back to talking to you.

“Yes, please,” I say instead, because I’ll just make things worse for myself if I make the Mage wait. 

“Okay.” Baz clears his throat, raising the note a little bit to be able to read it while not looking down at his lap. “Simon,” he starts in a voice that sounds a bit different from how he usually sounds. I suppose that’s his reading voice. “Your teachers have informed me you did not attend your classes today. I was wondering how you were doing? If you don’t mind, I’d like you to meet me in my office at 5 this afternoon.” He puts the note down between us on the bed. “That’s all it says.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“Wow, a thank you from Simon Snow. I’m starting to believe this is all just a dream,” he says, with one of those insufferable smirks growing on his lips.

“I doubt I’d be here if it was a dream,” I tease him back.

**…**

**Baz**

If you knew.

**…**

**Simon**

“Stop trying to change the subject,” he tells me. “Are you going to go or not? It’s a quarter to five,” he adds, tilting his chin to point at the clock.

“Yeah, of course I’m going. I have to.”

“You don’t, actually. You’re eighteen Snow, you don’t have to do everything the Mage tells you to do. He has no actual power over you any longer, except the one you give him. The only way he can order you to do things is as Headmaster of your school, so unless he specifically says he’s trying to reach out to you as Headmaster, you’re not obligated to do anything.”

Merlin, he sounds so much like Penny. I’m pretty sure she could tell me the exact same thing. But it’s not because both Baz and Penny think something that it’s true. They’re not  _ always  _ right. And they don’t understand. 

“You’re just saying all that because you don’t like him,” I mumble.

“I’m saying that because it’s true. I’m sure that if Bunce was here she’d agree with me.” Fuck can he read my mind? Is that a vampire thing? Can vampires read minds? No, that’s stupid, I’d know it already if Baz could read my mind. Right? “The Mage treated you like shit, Snow. For Crowley’s sake, he asked you to murder someone and gave you hell for it when you didn’t! That’s not how your bloody guardian should act towards you. If he’s not going to be good to you, you don’t have to be good to him.”

His words about my mission hit me like he punched me. All that time while we were talking, between the moment we shared magic and now, I had forgotten about the woman and the fire and the haunting look on her kid’s face, but now it’s all back.

“Snow,” Baz says, less aggressively, probably understanding that what he said brought back the memories of  _ her  _ death. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Still, I’m going to go. But it was nice talking to you, really. I hope this version of Baz will still be here when I come back.” I smile at him.

I don’t know why I feel like smiling at Baz so much, but I do. Maybe it’s because of the way he seems to stop functioning for half a second when I do, as if he can’t comprehend the fact that I could smile to him. It’s rather funny making Baz Pitch lose a little bit of his composure.

“I suppose the only way to find out is to come back quickly, isn’t it?” he says as he reaches for the chocolate bar on my lap. “And I’m keeping that hostage.”

“Ok, that’s just cruel. I’m going to starve.”

“Hurry up, then. I promise I’ll give it back to you.”

**…**

“Hello, sir. You asked to see me?” I say as I walk in.

The mood in the Mage’s office is  _ definitely not  _ what I was expecting. Instead of bending over his desk, turning paper almost black with his messy handwriting like he often is, he’s sitting back on his chair, looking relaxed. “Ah, Simon, my boy, I was waiting for you. Here, come sit down,” he says, pointing at one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk. 

I cross the room, not quite looking at the Mage, and sit where he told me to. I feel like a little child. I always feel that way when I’m with the Mage. 

“First and foremost, how are you? Why weren’t you in class today? Are you unwell?”

He sounds like he actually cares. “I was feeling a little sick, but I’ll go back to class tomorrow, I promise.”

“You can take a few days off if necessary. I realize that the last few days have been very demanding for you, I understand if you need some time for yourself without the additional burden of your lessons.”

My eyes go wide. I thought he was going to scold me for being so weak and not going to my classes. It’s what would have made the most sense. The Mage always pushed me to go back to school as quickly as I could after my missions, he said I couldn’t let events overtake me. 

“I… Thank you, sir. That’s very generous of you.”

“Of course. Now, I think we should talk about what happened on Friday.”

Here it is. 

Fuck why did I come. I  _ really  _ don’t want to talk about that. I feel like talking and thinking about it is pretty much all I’ve done since it happened. I need a fucking break. I should have ignored the note and just kept talking to Baz.

I can’t believe I’m missing talking to  _ Baz _ .

“I… I’ve got nothing to say about it.” That’s a blatant lie, but maybe it can get me out of this conversation.

“I do,” the Mage says. Apparently not. “I think I owe you an apology.”

An apology? The Mage wants to  _ apologize  _ to me? What kind of parallel universe where Baz isn’t a dick and the Mage apologizes to me have I landed in? Did the fire in Emmeline Hale’s house kill me? Is that my version of heaven?

“I should not have sent you to Yorkshire. It was not an appropriate mission to give you. I thought you were ready for more difficult tasks, but it’s quite obvious you are not. I should have asked one of my Men to do it, not you, they’re more experienced than you. From now on, I will be more careful about the missions I pick for you.”

That sounds more like the Mage. Saying something that sounds perfectly fine, with still some of his disappointment in me shining through. It makes me feel like shit. I wish I could do what the Mage wants me to do and make him proud, but at the same time, I don’t want to obey him if his orders are to take an innocent’s life. 

**…**

**Baz**

Snow stays with the Mage for forever.

Realistically, he’s only gone for an hour or so, but it feels like forever. 

It drives me mad that he runs to him whenever the Mage calls, and that that bastard knows how obedient and blind to his bad treatment Snow is. Though, maybe, Snow isn’t blind to it, he just chooses to ignore it. I don’t get why, but he’s a difficult person to understand ; none of his decisions make sense to me, probably because of how different we and the way we see life are. 

That doesn’t mean I wish Snow was more like me. His foolish trust in anyone who isn’t me and stupid heroism are such important parts of who he is, Snow would be a completely different person without them. I just wish he didn’t let people  _ take advantage  _ of his foolish trust and stupid heroism. It’s so upsetting how the Mage saw everything good in Snow and instead of valuing it, he decided to use it for his own benefit. 

**…**

The moment Snow enters the room, I put away the schoolwork I had started doing again while he was gone to pay attention to him. He looks a little sadder than when he left. It makes me want to go to the Mage’s office and punch the fucker. I knew it was a bad idea for Snow to go there, I fucking knew it, but of course he had to. That splendid fucking moron.

“I’m back, give me the chocolate,” he says, walking towards my bed. There’s nothing in his voice. It sounds the way his eyes looked when his magic was shielding him.

“Snow, are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He simply stops next to my bed, and shows me his open hand. 

I reach for the chocolate bar, and give it to him. 

“Thanks,” he says, but he doesn’t move. He looks back and forth between my and his bed, as if he didn’t know where he should go.

I’m  _ not  _ going to miss an occasion to have Simon Snow on my bed, even if he’s just sitting there making a mess of chocolate and looking all sad. “Come here,” I say, waving at the empty space in front of me in my bed. I’m sitting against the headboard, he’s got the rest of the bed to sit on.

I hope he won’t choose to sit too far away. 

He doesn’t. He takes his shoes off, throwing them to his side of the room, and then gets on my bed, sitting with his bent knees close enough for me to touch if I lean down a little bit and reach out. I was half expecting him to settle on the other side of the bed. 

“The chocolate, letting me sit on your bed… I suppose you still haven’t decided to go back to being a prick,” he says with the shadow of a smile on his lips as he unwraps the chocolate.

“You’re not the only one who enjoys not fighting.”

“So… what’s happening exactly?” He bites into the chocolate, and keeps talking as he chews it, probably just to spite me. Thankfully, he doesn’t open his mouth that much when he speaks or eats, so it’s not  _ that  _ gross. “Is this a temporary truce because you’re not feeling like making my life hell at the moment, or are we trying to be friends?”

Friends. 

It’s such a silly thing to ask, the only way to make it more childish would have been for him to write me a note with “Do you want to be my friends” scribbled on it, but it’s just such a  _ Snow  _ thing to do, it melts my heart. 

“You want to be my… friend?” I say, because I can’t quite believe it.

“Well, if being your friend means you stop insulting me and you give me some of your food, I sure do. I told you, I like the Baz who’s nice to me.”

“Enough to be friends with me?”

“Crowley Baz if you don’t want just tell me no and move on,” he says, and I can hear an edge to his voice

“No, no, no, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… Well I only have two friends and one of them is my cousin so, I suppose that means I’m not exactly good at being friends. I don’t understand why you’d want to be friends with me.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such an arrogant prick all the time, you’d have more friends. Half of the people in that school are intimidated by you. Besides, I’m not good at being friends either but it could be like in maths, you know. Two minuses equals a plus, so if we’re bad at it together maybe it could come out good,” he says, a small grin adoring his face, like he’s very proud of his little theory. “ Baz, I swear if you say anything about me knowing maths I will wipe my dirty hands on your bed,” he threatens me as he sees me opening my mouth, pointing an index finger stained with chocolate at me. 

That makes me laugh. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he anticipated my comment, or how silly his threat sounds, or just because I’m so fucking happy right now, but I laugh.

**…**

**Simon**

I’ve never seen Baz laugh before. 

He makes this cute face as he does, scrunching his nose, and it it sounds so beautiful

Of course even his damn laugh has to be perfect. It’s infuriating, really, how perfect he is. If he wasn’t a vampire -but that’s not really his fault-, and such an arsehole -but apparently he can be nice-, he would have no flaws at all. 

**…**

**Baz**

Snow is staring at me. I can’t really complain about it, I stare at him all the time, I’m just a bit confused as to why he does it. Do I look that stupid when I laugh?

“Do I have something on my face?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“No, why?”

“You’re looking at me strangely.”

A blush spreads on his cheeks, submerging his freckled in a sea of red. 

“Oh. Sorry. It’s just… I… You never laugh. It caught me off guard.”

“And you were so mesmerized by it that you stared at me like a creep?”

It’s easier to tease him than to give it much thought and let my stupid heart get wrong ideas. 

“I wouldn’t say mesmerized,” he mutters, looking everywhere but at me. I should have shut up. I liked having his eyes on me. “But you have a pretty laugh.”

Eight fucking snakes.

“Sorry that was a weird thing to say,” he adds immediately, probably because of the shocked look I must have on my face. 

“Everything you say is a weird thing to say. Your freedom of speech should be taken away from you.”

He gives my knee a weak punch. “Don’t be an arse.”

“But that’s my only personality trait,” I whine. 

“No it’s not. You also have being dramatic and eating rats.”

“I don’t…”

“Yeah, you don’t eat rats. You’ve said it already. Doesn’t mean I believe you,” he says, popping the last piece of chocolate inside of his mouth.

And here goes another one of my snacks, swallowed by Simon Snow.

He’s got chocolate on the corner of his lips. I want to lick it off his face. Because I’m disturbed. Ask anyone.

I have to stop looking at his lips. 

“Baz, do you have more food?”

“Are you trying to empty my stash?”

“No! Not to eat! I mean I’m hungry but I’ve already eaten a lot of your stuff. It’s just that, you know I thought you only had your stupid crisps, and then it turned out that you had chocolate too, so I’m curious to see if you’ve got anything else hidden in that drawer.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but all I have are crisps and chocolate. And if you’re hungry, you should probably hurry and go to the dining hall.”

“It’s dinner time already?” he says, glancing at the clock. His eyes go wide when he sees the time. “Fuck it’s so late, I’m gonna miss it if I don’t go now.”

“Then go now.”

I don’t particularly want him to go. This thing between us seems very fragile, and I’m afraid the magic is going to fade if he leaves again. But he’ll probably hate me more if I keep away from Watford’s dinner than if I let him go and he’s got time to think about how much he actually despises me.

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that. Are you coming too?”

“No.”

“Are you going to go eat rats?” he says, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Snow?” 

“Yeah?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

**…**

Snow is gone for far longer than I expected. 

What was I even fucking expecting. Of course he wouldn’t run back here once he was done having dinner. He’s got a life. And he’s often hanging out with Bunce in the evening. I don’t really know where they go, since he can’t go to the Cloisters and they’re not here, but there’s so many mysterious things about those two, I don’t even question it.

The night sky is already full of stars when Snow eventually comes back. 

As I see him walk in, the moon casting pale, greyish light on him, I’m reminded of another grey figure, standing there in the room only a few days ago, and it hits me.

I still haven’t talked to him about his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it!  
> comments are always appreciated!


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz slowly start to become friends

**Simon**

Shit, I didn’t think Baz would be in the room when I got back. He should be in the Catacombs right now, but well, he’s not. 

I don’t know how I should go with this. Should I talk to him? Or just do my thing and pretend he isn’t here like I usually do? I’m very good at antagonizing Baz, but not so good at being friends with him. How do you even begin to be friends with a bloke you’ve been fighting with for years?

I’m not regretting asking him to be friends, though. This afternoon with him was the best I’ve felt in months. Admittedly, I was in care, and then on that bloody mission, so it’s not hard to make me feel better than that, but still. Baz normally makes me feel  _ worse  _ than I already do, not better.

“Are you going to stand by the door all night?”

I start when I hear his voice. I can barely see him, it’s too dark, but I suppose he can. Vampires have night vision, right? Like bats?

Can Baz turn into a bat? I’m not going to ask him that.

“Shut up,” I mumble as I walk to my bed. I’m not exactly tired, I’ve slept so much today, but where else am I supposed to go?

Maybe on Baz’s?

No.

But that’s what we did sooner today. 

But now it’s night. It’d feel more intimate sitting on the same bed at night. The few time I was on Agatha’s bed at night, we ended up snogging.

Not that I think I’d end up snogging Baz. It just seems more like a couple than a friends thing, you know, to be on the same bed with the lights off?

I should probably have turned the lights on. It’s a bit awkward sitting there in the dark knowing Baz is awake too without being able to really see him. 

“Can you turn the lights on?”

“Couldn’t you do it while you were near the light switch?”

“Didn’t think about it.”

He sighs, but I hear him shift in his bed and grab his wand. He pronounces a spell -perfectly, of course- and the room lights up. I can finally see him, sitting on his bad, wand in hand. I wonder what he was doing before I arrived. He was in the dark and he doesn’t have a book or his phone nearby, but he doesn’t look like someone who’s just woken up “What were you doing?”

“Excuse me?” he says, sounding confused.

“Before I came.”

“Oh. I was just resting I suppose. I can’t fall asleep early but that doesn’t mean I’m not tired. It’s good to just lie there thinking.” He changes positions again, turning to face me, his long legs stretched out in front of him, thighs on the bed, feet on the floor. He puts his hands behind him and lean against them, his arms supporting the weight of his upper body. He looks casual, but still so… Baz. And he’s so elegant, even now, in his bloody pyjamas. 

I don’t think I’ve ever seen what kind of stuff Baz sleeps in, since he goes to bed long after me and buries himself under his cover when he sleeps. 

Unsurprisingly, even his pyjamas look posh and expensive. It’s made of one of those fancy fabrics, satin or silk, I think.

“I could never do that. It’d drive me crazy to just lie there thinking,” I say, as I also try to find a comfortable position, much less gracefully than Baz.

“Of course you couldn’t do that, you barely ever think at all.”

“I’d like to be offended but honestly it’s just true.”

He snorts. He was probably expecting me to call him a prick, not agree with him.

“Of course it’s true. I said it. I’m always right.”

“Believe whatever makes you happy, I guess.”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s going to hurt so much when things will go back to normal.

Because of course they’re going to go back to normal. I’m not delusional enough to believe Snow actually wants to befriend me. I’m not the kind of person anyone would want to be friends with.

All I can do is enjoy it while it lasts I suppose.

“And you,” I say before an awkward silence can settle between us. “What were you doing out so late?”

“You’re always out late, you have no room to talk.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I was with Penny. She wanted to check if I’d done my homework. I haven’t. She was not pleased.”

“So you’ve been away until…” I glance at the clock “10 doing homework with your best friend?”

“Yeah, the daily life of the Chosen One is extremely exciting, I know. But Penny is kinda scary sometimes, and she was mad I didn’t do much of my schoolwork. Can you blame me, honestly?”

“Yes.”

He just glares at me. It looks ridiculous on him. His face seems too kind, with his freckles and moles and blue eyes for him to look intimidating. 

“Fuck off. I was away for  _ three weeks _ . Even when I’m not in school, I don’t understand half of the stuff that’s happening in class, of course I can’t understand the stuff that happened when I wasn’t even here,” he sighs, leaning back against the wall, a pout on his face.

He’s a child.

“Maybe Bunce just doesn’t have the right method,” I say. 

“She sure as hell doesn’t, but she’s also the only person who can put up with me, so.”

I want to say that’s not true, but the thing is, as lovely and lovable as I think Snow is, Bunce  _ is  _ his only friend and the only person who always sticks with him. He’s got Wellbelove, but she’s out of the picture half of the time, and he’s got me, but he doesn’t know it. 

“I could help you with your homework if you want,” I suggest before I can overthink it. Is that what it’s like being Snow? Just saying things without really thinking about it beforehand? “Maybe my method will be better than Bunce’s.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

Fuck, I’m never saying what goes through my mind as it does ever again.

“You… You would help me? Why? I’m shit in most of the subjects you’ll just end up being pissed off.”

“I want to be a teacher,” I say because it’s the truth, and because it’s a better justification than ‘because I’m hopelessly in love with you and want nothing more than to spend time alone with you, even if it’s to do homework.’ “I help my stepmother teach my sisters sometimes during the holidays…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupts me, throwing one of his arms forward, his palm open in a motion that’s clearly meant to tell me to stop talking. “You want to be a teacher? And you have sisters and a stepmother?”

**…**

**Simon**

Fuck, and I thought I knew Baz.

I suppose I only know the parts of him he lets me see.

The parts of him I  _ want  _ to see.

The bad parts.

**…**

**Baz**

“Yes, yes, and yes. Is it that surprising?”

He looks like I just told him I’m secretly a stripper or something. Does he think I only live to plot his downfall? 

“Which part?” 

“All of them, I suppose,” I ask, amused. “Start with the teacher part. Don’t I strike you as the type to become a teacher?”

I know I don’t. It’s why I ask. 

“Honestly mate, you really don’t.” 

“Call me ‘mate’ one more time and I’ll spell you mute.”

It makes him laugh. The idiot. 

“Whatever you say. Anyway, no, you don’t look like someone who wants to be a teacher, no. I guess I assumed you’d be working one of those obscure jobs where you wear fancy suits and sit in a big office every day.”

Funny, that’s exactly what Father wants me to do.

He’s not opposed to me becoming a teacher, since Mum was one, he can’t really say anything, but he’d rather see me grow up to be a lawyer or a business man of some kind.

Pretty hypocritical from the man whose entire family are farmers, in my opinion.

“The idea of working an office job really doesn’t appeal to be at all. Teaching, however, it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while. My mother was a teacher before she was Headmistress, did you know that? She taught a subject the Mage took off the syllabus when he took over. I want to walk in her footsteps and teach too. Not necessarily at Watford, though, because I prefer younger children over teenagers. I’m more comfortable around little ones, and I’m not particularly interested in teaching only one subject. I think I’d get bored.”

Snow’s lips are parted slightly, his eyes focused on me as I speak. He’s really paying attention to what I say. It shouldn’t make me feel as fucking ecstatic as it does, to know that Snow is actually  _ listening  _ to me, giving me all of his attention.

Caring about what I’m telling him.

“No offense, but I really can’t picture you with children. You’d probably creep them out.”

I snort. “Would I now?”

“Yes. You creep  _ me  _ out sometimes. You look like a vampire.”

Just look like? Not are?

His choice of word makes me feel warm inside.

I’m so pathetic.

“Don’t worry, children are not as easily creeped out by me as you are, if my sisters and their friends are anything to go by.”

“How old are they exactly, your sisters? Are they really little or are you hiding the fact that you have a sister currently at Watford?”

“They’re too young for Watford. The older one is seven.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a big age difference you two have. I can only guess it’s even bigger with the other?”

“Your deduction abilities are mind blowing, Snow.”

He gives me an irritated look. “Don’t be a prick and tell me about your other sister. Or sisters?”

“Sisters. Three of them. There are the twins, who are 3, and the baby, who was born in July.”

“Eight snakes, they’re so young,” he says excitedly, his eyes shining a little bit. He looks like a puppy trashing his tail around. “Do you have pictures of them? If you don’t mind showing them of course.” As if I would refuse him anything, when he looks as bloody gorgeous as he does now, eagerness written all over his face. I grab my phone, and wave at Snow. He’s practically jumping on my bed when I unlock it. “I just love tiny kids,” he says as I look through my phone to find pictures of the girls. I know I have plenty of them, but they’re lost in between the bunch of pictures of all sorts I also have. I notice that Snow isn’t trying to look over my shoulder to spy on the content of phone. 

Maybe he’s really making efforts to make this friends thing work. Maybe he really  _ wants it  _ to work.

“At the care homes, the babies are the only people who aren’t repulsed by my magic, so I spend a lot of time with them,” Snow continues.

I try not to think about him, during the summers, getting some of that human contact he craves from the other orphaned children because it’s the best thing he can do not to be completely alone.

I hum at what he says, to show him that I’m paying attention, right before I finally find some pictures. They date back from when the baby was born and Daphne was still in the hospital. We were visiting her with Father and the little ones, and Daphne insisted she ‘wanted a picture of all her children’. When she told me to go pose with the girls, I was more emotional than when I saw the baby.

Maybe I should have some reservations about showing Snow a picture so dear to me, but perhaps seeing me with my sisters, even if it’s just on a photo, will show him that I am, in fact, a person capable of feelings. “Here, I found something,” I tell him.

It efficiently grabs his attention. He looks down at my phone, impatient, and I let him hold it to look. I usually hate it when people take my phone when I’m showing them things, or when people take my phone in general, but it’s Snow so I don’t mind.

“Oh. My. God. You’re holding the baby.  _ You _ . Baz Pitch. With a  _ baby  _ in your arms. I’m so mad I don’t have a phone I can send this to. I can’t believe you’re showing me this.”

I can’t believe it either. I’m probably going to regret it bitterly later, but for now, the glee I can see in his sparkly eyes and wide grin make it well worth it.

“Your sisters are cute, though. That one looks like the girl in the Addams Family, Tuesday or something,” he says, pointing at Mordelia. 

“It’s Wednesday, Snow. Wednesday Addams. You’re comparing my little sister to Wednesday Addams.”

I can’t believe him. He’s such a bloody moron. 

He has the decency to blush. “Well, she’s got black hair and braids like that little girl in the Addams Family,” he mumbles, trying to justify himself.

He’s adorable.

I could kiss him right now.

Basil, no.

Instead, I take back my phone, and put it away. My fingers brush against Snow’s, and it may or may not be intentional. I have to use all of my self control not to let a shiver run across my entire body. “Enough talking about my family. Let’s get back to what I was saying before you rudely interrupted me to ask intrusive questions about my private life, shall we?”

I make sure to let some amusement be heard in my voice so that Snow knows I’m teasing. 

“You wanting to help me with my schoolwork?”

“Exactly. As I was saying, sometimes I teach my sisters, but they’re rather-quick witted, I suppose it could be good training for me to try to teach someone who has some… learning difficulties.”

“I’m thick, you can say it.”

I’d  _ really  _ like to know if you’re thick, Simon.

Wow okay Baz calm down. 

I should have fucking wanked while he was away, it doesn’t do me any good being around Simon Snow without fighting.

“Whatever you want to call it. It would be beneficial for me too, so if you want, we could try that. Not tonight, of course, but some time later.”

“Well, I mean, I’m not gonna say no when the bloke who’s top of our class proposes to give me his help, am I?” he chuckles.

“It’s settled then. I’ll try not to torture you as much as Bunce, but I can’t promise anything.”

“I’d be worried if you started making promises to me, especially if you promised not to torture me.”

He smiles at me and Crowley, he has no right to do that. It’s turning me into a puddle. It’s not even one of those huge, bright smiles he gives Bunce or Wellbelove -bloody fucking Wellbelove who’s lucky enough to date him- but it’s still a smile and it’s directed at  _ me _ .

“No but seriously, thanks Baz. It’s… It’s really nice of you.”

“Don’t mention it. No, but really though, don’t mention it. I don’t want anyone to know I’m doing you a favour. I have a reputation.”

“Of course, of course. How awful would it be for people to know you’re capable of not being an arsehole.”

“I’m being serious, Snow. It’s better if whatever is going on between us stays here.” 

He loses his smile the moment I say it, and the sparkles in his eyes disappear. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, okay, fine, if you want.”

Merlin, what is this imbecile thinking?

“Snow. Look at me. I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, but I’m just saying that because of who we are. You’re the Chosen One, the Mage’s Heir, it could be… complicated for us, if people knew we are… friends.” It’s hard to get the word out. I still can’t believe it, and I feel like I don’t deserve to call myself his friend. Like I don’t deserve to  _ be  _ his friend. “The Families,  _ my  _ family, are openly against the Mage and his politics. What do you think the Mage will think if he sees us being friendly?”

“That it’s a plot,” he answers immediately. It’s obviously a conclusion he comes to quickly, he’s been accusing me of plotting for years. Surely he didn’t get those ideas on his own. Half of what Snow is like today is a consequence, direct or not, of the Mage’s influence.

“Yes. Do  _ you  _ think it’s a plot?”

The time he takes to answer breaks my heart. I hate that he’d think I’m pretending just to hurt him later. I know it’s my fault, because of the way I behaved all those years, but it still hurts.

“No, I don’t.” He ends up saying. “I hope you won’t prove me wrong about that. I want to be right, for once.” 

His eyes are determined when they meet mine. 

“I won’t prove you wrong,” I answer softly. “I’m not plotting against you, Snow.”

I haven’t been for a while, except if you count those scenarios of you falling in love with me I make up in the dark, when your eyes are closed and mine are on you.

He’s too close to me, and my voice is way too soft, and the mood is too strange.

I have to end this before I make a mistake. Before I lean in and scare him away with my disgusting feelings, ruining that fragile friendship we just started building.

I clear my throat. “I think we should go to bed, now,” I tell him, looking away from his bewitching blue eyes.

“We’re in bed,” he giggles.

“In your own bed, Snow.” I roll my eyes. “Move.”

I give him a kick in the shin and he lets out a pained noise before standing up from my bed to go to the en suite, grabbing his pyjamas on the way.

**…**

**Simon**

When I come back, I notice that Baz has turned off the lights, and that, from the vague shapes I can make out in his bed, he’s lying down. He’s probably not sleeping already, but it’s most likely it’s what he intends on doing. I try not to trip on anything, and miraculously manage to get to my bed without falling face first on the floor. I push the covers away -it’s almost october and it’s still too hot in here.The window is closed, but I don’t want to fight Baz over it tonight. 

Everything has been so wonderful today between us, I don’t want to ruin it for a stupid window.

“Baz?” I call once I’m settled. I’m on my side, facing Baz’s bed. Usually, I turn my back on him, but tonight, I don’t want to.

“What do you want now?”

“Is this real?”

Please say it is.

“What do you mean?”

“This. Us not fighting. Is that real?”

“It’s real.”

**…**

**Baz**

I need it to be real.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz takes a nice shower and gives Simon *shocking* news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for this  
> That’s what happens when I write on even more sleep deprivation and caffeine than usual

**Baz**

I don’t get woken up by Snow at an ungodly hour today. In fact, when my alarm rings, I can see that he is still in bed.

That’s strange. 

I don’t think he’s ever slept later than me, and we’ve shared a room for seven years. 

“Snow?” I call as I stand up. Then, louder. “Snow!”

He wakes up with a jerk. “Baz?” he says, his voice slower and deeper than usual.

Crowley. Simon Snow saying my name sleepily. I might die.

I try not to let my imagination think of my name on his lips as he wakes up in another context, but it’s too late, I’m already assaulted with mental pictures of Snow lying in the same bed as me, looking at me with eyes foggy with sleep but still full of love. 

Fuck.

“It’s 7, you moron, why are you still sleeping?”

“I… I’m not going to class today. The Mage allowed me to skip a couple of days, if I wanted to.”

Does the Mage want Snow to fail his year or what?

He’s already missed three weeks, and he’s not exactly bright, I don’t know how he’ll be able to come back to class without being completely lost if he keeps missing.

But I suppose he needs it, after everything that happens.

And I suppose that’s my job now, helping Simon so that he isn’t completely lost when he comes back. I told him I would, after all. 

So I simply hum -I know he can’t see me in the dark, he doesn’t have vision as good as mine, so I can’t just nod- before saying “Well, you can go back to sleep then, I suppose.”

“Too late,” he yawns. “I’m up.” He stretches, exposing his bare chest even more to my sight, letting out a moan as he does. I can’t believe the noises he makes in my presence.

Does he really have no idea that I want him? That I have all those unspeakable thoughts about him? 

That bloody nightmare is going to kill me. 

I summon all of my self control to look away and rush inside the bathroom, but it’s too late, my trousers are already uncomfortably tight.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t want to make assumptions, but I think Baz is wanking in the en suite.

I mean, I don’t blame him, morning wood is a bitch, but it’s weird to think that he’s _right there_ touching himself, you know?

Maybe it shouldn’t be. We’re roommates, and we’re both teenage boys, there has definitely been a lot of wanking going on in that room. And technically I _know_ that Baz wanks, he _must_ , everyone does, but up until now he’d been very discreet about it. 

He’s being discreet right now, if I’m honest. The shower’s turned on and all, but I can still hear some stuff. The water isn’t running the same way it does when its only obstacle is you washing your body, and gasps he can’t hold back and moans he doesn’t muffle well enough reach me through the door. 

_Moans._

Baz Pitch is _moaning._

I wasn’t sure he could. Baz rarely makes any sounds that aren’t scornful. Because he’s a git.

A git who sounds really fucking hot when moans.

Wow, okay what was that.

Baz isn’t… He doesn’t sound _hot_. Not exactly. It’s just… his voice sounds great all the time, it fits him well, not too deep, but not high enough that he could sound like a girl, so I suppose it makes sense that he also sounds great when he… you know.

It’s just unfair.

 _I_ sound like a tosser when I moan. It’s a good thing Agatha and I never did anything, I’d probably have made a fool of myself just with the noises I make, on top of all the other things I could have done wrong.

Baz surely wouldn’t have those problems. Or _doesn’t_ have those problems. I don’t know if Baz is a virgin. I don’t think so. I don’t think attractive people stay virgins too long. The attractive people always have sex in movies. And Baz _is_ attractive, even I can see that and I’m straight. 

I wonder if the girl -girls?- he had sex with was as attractive as him. Probably not. There’s no one as attractive as Baz at Watford, except Agatha and I know for sure that she didn’t have sex with him. Maybe he did it with Normals.

**…**

**Baz**

Fucking Simon Snow.

It’s all his fucking fault. Whatever it is that happened yesterday, and that fucking _moan…_ It’s just too much. It’s messing with my brain.

It reminds me how fucking much I want him. Need him.

I’m in the shower, the water running as hot as I think Snow’s skin would feel on mine, and my eyes are tight shut, so that I can picture blue irises and tawny skin covered in moles.

I’m too turned on, and it’s his damn fault, so I allow myself to fantasize.

Merlin knows I’m good at fantasies. I could have a fucking degree in fantasies. 

When you know that the person you desire most, the person your heart is aching for and your body craving the touch of, will never want you the way you want them, you get creative. 

Today’s fantasy is one of the best ones, those I don’t indulge in often, because they always end up making me feel like shit.

It’s easy to imagine us having hate sex. Snow grabbing me, his eyes full of anger, but kissing me instead of punching me. Pushing me down on the bed or pressing me against a wall and doing whatever the fuck he wants with me. It turns me on, and it’s enough to bring myself off most of the time. I don’t need to fantasize about a tenderness that’ll never exist.

It’s not as easy to imagine him fucking me because he cares about me, but that’s what I’m going with today, because yesterday was so wonderful, it makes my stupid heart want to imagine a situation where Snow doesn’t hate me.

So right now, I picture him in front of me, seemingly as naked as I am, water flattening and darkening his curls. He’s giving me a small, seductive smile.

“You’ve been so nice yesterday Baz, so good to me. You deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

I nod frantically. His smile gets wider, and I take myself in hand. I whimper the moment I put pressure on my aching cock. I don’t want to tease myself today. I just need to get off.

I don’t think fantasy-Snow wants to tease me either. He has a hungry look on his face.

“Crowley, you’re so hard already,” he says, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Look at you, so needy.”

Snow leans in, peppering kisses on my shoulders and neck as the hand on my cock moves faster, brushing over the tip once in a while, which makes me moan every time. It’s good, so fucking good.

“You like that, don’t you?” Snow asks, amusement in his voice before the hand focuses more on the tip. 

I’m leaking precum, and expert fingers are spreading it all over the most sensitive parts of my cock. A fingernail grazes at the slit and I let out a groan. “Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Snow says, his face leaving the crook of my neck to look at me. “Keep quiet, love. I’m right there, you don’t need to be loud, I can hear you,” he whispers. 

And then the assault on my cock starts again, even faster. Merlin and fucking Morgana. My free hand flies to my mouth, and I bite down on it hard to muffle the shameless sounds I’m making. I don’t care if I draw blood. Snow said I have to keep quiet, I will keep quiet. My fangs could bloody well pop out and rip the skin off my hand for all I care. I’m too lost in pleasure to care about anything that isn’t the hand stroking my cock and the smell of smoke surrounding me.

Snow must notice my efforts to follow his orders, because he leans in to say into my ear, his voice hot and raspy “That’s it Baz, you’re doing great. You’re such a good boy.”

I come harder than I have in a long time, my hand stilling on my cock and my mouth opening in a silent cry, drool and blood running down the hand I was biting.

It’s so gross, but it feels so good. 

When I open my eyes, breathing heavily, Snow is gone.

**...**

**Simon**

I hear a groan, something louder than before, and I feel my face burn.

I shouldn’t be listening to that. If I was wanking, I sure as hell wouldn’t want Baz to listen. It’s an invasion of his privacy.

Since when do I care about invading his privacy?

I mean, I guess there’s a difference between following him to see if he’s really a vampire and listening to him like a creep when he touches himself.

Fuck I should leave. 

Yeah, that’s a good idea.

I grab the pair of trousers and the shirt I discarded on the floor last night when I undressed for bed, put them on quickly, and leave the room in a hurry. The shower stops running the moment I close the door. 

**…**

**Baz**

The real Snow is gone too.

Well.

I try to collect myself, leaning against the cold wall of the shower, head still full of Simon Snow.

He was there the whole time I was wanking. I _knew_ he was there, that’s why I needed a wank in the first place, but the fact that he stayed in the room and didn’t leave before right after I came, and that he probably heard me pleasure myself, it’s so much to process.

Especially the heard me part, that part is really mortifying. I don’t want Snow to hear me moan -that’s a lie, I _do_ want him to hear me moan, but because he’s the one making me moan, not when I’m pathetically wanking in the shower.

I wish I had taken my bloody wand, but I went to the bathroom so quickly, I didn’t even think about it. If I had, I could have cast a **Silence is golden** on the door.

That’s what I usually do. 

I’ve wanked with Snow in the room before, because I’m disturbed, and because having his fucking smell, that damn smokey odour that’ll haunt me forever, coming from the other side of the door _really_ helps making my fantasies that it’s his hand on me and not my own more real. And he can’t usually hear me, so I can moan his name as much as I want. Simon, Simon, _Simon_. 

Today I absolutely couldn’t. Because he was _actually_ there, though not in the shower with me, sadly, and there was no silencing spell. 

I’m sure he would have murdered me if he heard me say his name as I brought myself off. I’m glad some part of my brain stayed sane enough to make the Snow in my fantasy ask me to keep my voice down. 

My post-orgasm euphoria starts to wear off, and the state I’m in really hits me.

I’ve got water, spit, blood, and come on my body, and I’m sweating all over, my skin looking almost a normal color, which is the undead creature equivalent of turning red.

I’m such a fucking mess. No wonder the only person shagging me is the Snow I’ve made up in my mind.

**…**

Knowing that Snow was not going to class, and therefore staying in the room all day, I avoided Mummers House like the plague today. The only inconvenience it caused me was having to carry my school supplies to the Catacombs when I went down there to feed, but I can live with that. It probably surprised the rat though, when I illuminated le Tombeau des Enfants with the fire in my free and took paper and a pen out of my bag to write something down. 

But now it’s getting late, and the Catacombs are getting really cold, even with fire keeping me a bit warm, so I have to leave.

I know I probably shouldn't be so reluctant to go back to my room, it’s not like I committed a crime, I just wanked, but it’s most likely going to create some sort of awkward situation and I don’t want to deal with that. I don’t want to see that I’ve already ruined our ‘friendship’ -if I can even call it that- with my inability to control myself around Snow.

**…**

**Simon**

It’s already dark outside when Baz comes back to the room. He’s got his school bag slung on one shoulder, which is not surprising, I didn’t see him all day, so there’s no way he could have gotten rid of it before going to the Catacombs.

I know he went there because his cheeks are pinkish. They only get like that when he’s fed recently. It’s lovely. It makes him look less dead.

“Hey. How was class?” I ask.

It’s a stupid question, but I have to find a conversation starter and the only other thing I can think about is “Hey, I heard you touch yourself this morning, would you mind using a silencing spell the next time you want a good wank.”

He glances at me, raising one of his eyebrows. I hate it so much when he does that. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because that’s what friends do? Penny asks me about my day all the time,” I say. 

I try to sound sure, but I’m actually pretty freaked. I hope he hasn’t gone back on his decision to try being my friend. I had time to think about it today, and this time with Baz when we weren’t fighting yesterday afternoon was really good for me. Him being a part of my day without making it _worse_ was good for me. 

I didn’t realize how exhausting throwing insults at each other was until we stopped doing it for a few hours.

“Well, class was okay. It was class. The teachers said a bunch of stuff I didn’t care about, Gareth made everyone uncomfortable when he used his bloody belt buckle, Dev and Niall used me as a messenger to pass each other disgusting notes. A regular day,” he answers as he puts his back down and goes sit on his bed. 

He bends down to take his shoes off carefully, placing them next to each other against his bed. He’s so fucking elegant. I would just have kicked the shoes off, letting them land wherever they wanted.

I suppose that’s part of what he means when he says I have no manners.

“How do you know their notes are disgusting?” 

My questions are getting worse and worse. Crowley, this is why Penny always carries the conversation when we talk.

“I read them,” he says, and I snort. Of course he does. His friends send each other notes through him, so he feels entitled to read them. He’s such a tosser. “Well, I read them until they make me want to gag and I have to stop reading them to keep my sanity, and the ability to look at them in the eyes ever again. I wonder what those idiots would do if a teacher ever took one of their notes.”

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t know why I’m telling Snow all of that. I just know that I like chatting with him.

I’m rewarded with a laugh as he says “Merlin, what’s in those notes?”

“Sexual stuff, mainly,” I say, waiting for his reaction. Snow gets embarrassed quickly. Well, maybe not so quickly I suppose, considering he didn’t leave right when I started wanking this morning.

He blushes a little bit and his eyes go wide. “Sexual stuff? Dev and Niall, they… Oh my god. Are they dating?”

Normal swearing. Is it this surprising to him that they may be an item? Because it seems rather _un_ surprising to me. 

“Yes, they are. Problem with that?” I ask a bit too cooly.

I’ve never exactly talked about gay rights with Snow, for all I know, he may be homophobic.

Eight snakes, I hope he’s not. It’s terrible enough being in love with a straight boy.

“No, no, no,” he says immediately, blushing some more. I feel like blushing and tripping on his words are the only things he does. And shrugging. “I don’t… I don’t care if they’re gay, I mean, it’s not like I’m close to them or anything so…”

Fuck, is he one of those ‘I’m fine with gay people as long as it’s not my family and friends’ kind of people? I want to die.

“If it was someone you’re close to, would you care?” I interrupt him, my voice getting colder and colder. 

My face probably is too, because he gives me a confused look. “What?” 

“Let’s say I’m gay. Would you care?” 

“ _Are you_ gay?”

“I asked first.”

Childish, I know.

“No, Baz, I wouldn’t care if you’re gay,” he says, his eyes locking into mine. 

Merlin, this blue. It’s not even a particularly special colour, it’s so fucking ordinary, and yet it drives me crazy.

“Baz,” he says again, more seriously. “I don’t care. I really don’t. It’s your life. Who you want to shag, it really isn’t my business.”

I just nod. What am I supposed to answer to that?

**…**

**Simon**

I can’t believe Baz just told me he was gay.

I mean, technically, he hasn’t said it, but he’s made it pretty clear, even for me, and it’s not like Baz ever says things. He still hasn’t admitted he’s a vampire and I’ve been tormenting him with that for years.

He was acting so cold when he talked, but he looks so fragile now. He went a little pale when he asked if it would bother if it was someone I’m close to who was gay.

Am I even close to Baz?

Well, we _do_ share a room. Should I be worried about that?

I chase that thought away quickly. Penny says half of the things I say are offensive, and she may be right. Thank Merlin I didn’t say that out loud. I don’t even really think that ; if Baz were to be a threat to me, it would be because he’s a vampire not because he likes blokes.

He likes blokes.

 _Baz_ likes blokes.

I don’t know why that information bothers me so much, but thinking about _Baz_ with another bloke, kissing him, touching him, it makes my blood boil.

Oh my god, am I homophobic?

I don’t want to be homophobic.

I don’t think I am homophobic.

I really don’t care who people are into. 

I’ve known Keris and Trixie were lesbians for a while and I really don’t mind. Same with Dev and Niall, now that I think about it. It’s their business, if they’re happier with someone of the same gender, good for them I guess.

But _Baz_.

Was he thinking about a bloke this morning when he wanked?

**…**

**Baz**

I think I’ve broken Snow. 

After his little rant, he seemed to black out from the conversation. He looks lost in his own head, and I can see micro expressions on his face, as if he was debating with himself or something.

“Snow?”

“Were you thinking about a bloke when you wanked this morning?”

**…**

**Simon**

Fuck.

**…**

**Baz**

Did he just bloody ask me that?

“As you just said, this isn’t any of your goddamn business.”

I don’t even say anything about the wanking part. He probably knows that I know that he heard me wank. I don’t want to pretend not to know and make this conversation even more of a mess.

It fucking started with him asking me about school and now I’ve come out and he’s asking me about how I wank. Crowley

He has the decency to look embarrassed as he mumbles “Yeah, you’re right, sorry it was inappropriate. I… I’m going to bed now.”

And then he just bloody runs -literally runs- to the en suite.

Merlin and fucking Morgana.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz’s shower awakened something in Simon  
> Baz has some revelations to make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m most likely going to be able to to write two chapters today, so I allow myself to post another chapter ^^ It’s an important one and I’m rather excited for it, so yeah

**Simon**

Baz is lying underneath me, panting. His hair is up like it is sometimes when he’s doing homework and doesn’t want it in his face but can’t be bothered putting hair gel on it, but the way he moved his head against the pillow has messed his bun up. It’s even hotter than when he makes it messy on purpose. 

But not as hot as the sounds he’s making when I touch him. Soft whimpers and moans that go straight to my cock. I wish he wouldn’t hold them back though. He’s biting his lip to make them fainter.

“Let me hear you,” I tell him, looking into those grey eyes of his. “You’re too quiet.”

He shakes his head. “Make me louder,” he says, his voice not sounding quite like how it usually does. It’s deeper, sexier. Aleister fucking Crowley.

And then he starts biting his lip even harder. Arsehole. That prick is going to bite his lips bloody just to be contrary. I fucking hate him.

He raises one of his eyebrows at me, as if to say “So?”

I want to punch him. I want to kiss him. 

I want…

I wake up with a jerk and a gasp.

Baz.

Holy shit I want Baz.

No.

No, I  _ don’t  _ want Baz.

He’s a bloke. I don’t like blokes. And even if I did, he’s  _ Baz. _

He’s an arsehole -but not all the time.

He’s made my life hell for years -but he’s been nice lately.

He tried to steal my girlfriend -but he’s  _ gay _ .

_ I’m _ not gay. I would know it if I was gay. But I’m not. I was attracted to Agatha. 

But I never dreamt about touching Agatha like that.

But Agatha never fucking wanked in the next fucking room.

Yeah it must be that.

Hearing Baz wank yesterday fucked with my brain and made it think I wanted Baz when really I’m just fucking  _ horny.  _ Contrary to my stupid fucking roommate, _ I _ haven’t rubbed one out in a while. I’m frustrated, that’s all.

And I mean, in porn, you can kinda hear the bloke too, right? And that’s hot. Because the sounds people make when they’re having sex are hot it doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or a boy.

And Baz’s moans were very fucking hot. 

I feel my cock getting harder when I think about it.

Fuck.

I glance at Baz, but it’s too dark in the room and I can only make out the shape of his body on his bed. I pay attention to his breathing for a moment. It’s slow, like it always is -vampire- but it’s steady. I didn’t wake him up when I did, thank God. Now I have to get to the en suite without waking him up -because I  _ can’t  _ stay like that, but I can’t wake him up.

As carefully as I can, I get out of bed, and, for the first time since I started living in that fucking room, I’m grateful for the stone floor. Usually it’s an inconvenience, because it’s so cold, but at least it doesn’t creak the way wooden floor does

I cross the room slowly, so that I don’t trip over something -maybe Baz is right and I shouldn’t leave my stuff on the floor. I get inside the bathroom, and turn the lights on. I groan as the yellowish light burns my eyes, and close them before opening them again, waiting for them to adapt to the brightness. Once I can see properly, I take my trousers and pants off, sucking in a breath at the friction, and leave them on the floor as I sit inside the shower. My arse is gonna freeze but I’m not about to try casting a spell to warm the tiles up. They’ll probably end up being scalding. And I’m going to get warmer very soon anyway, I think as I let my hand slide between my thighs. 

Fuck it feels so good. It’s been so long.

I close my eyes, and try to picture a girl. Not one I know, that would be weird. I used to think about Agatha but she’s not my girlfriend anymore so I can’t do that. Instead, I just try to imagine some random, undefined girl, here with me.

She’s got long black hair, down to the middle of her back. I can’t give her a face, but it’s not important, I try to focus on her body instead. Her curves. 

Soft, hands with long, thin fingers around me instead of my own, stroking me quickly.

But as I get closer and closer to climax, the hands become bigger, rougher to the touch, the curves flatten and the hair shortens.

When I come, all I can see are eyes like moon craters.

**...**

**Baz**

I really have to talk to Snow about his mother.

He’s been back for days, I can’t keep stalling. This weekend I didn’t do it because he was miserable and I was angry, then it was because I didn’t want to burst our bubble, and yesterday, it was because of my impromptu coming out -I still can’t believe I’ve told Snow I was gay, sort of. 

I have to tell him tonight. 

Contrary to yesterday, he’s already up and gone when I wake up, and he doesn’t come back before after I’ve left for class. It’s a pity, I wish I’d seen him, to try and figure how he’s handling the whole “the bloke I’ve been sharing a room with for years is gay” thing, but he seems to have been avoiding me. I can’t blame him, I did the same thing yesterday. In my defense, me knowing he listened to me wank is a much more shocking information than him finding out I’m gay. 

It’s not like it’s  _ that hard  _ to figure out that I’m not straight. But then again, Snow is a moron, so maybe he really didn’t have any idea I liked men.

Anyway, I have to stop thinking about it. I have to focus on his mother. The things she told me, the things I have to tell Snow. 

I’m not sure how he’ll react. I hope he won’t think I’m lying to him to hurt him. I would never do that. Hurting Snow hasn’t been on my list of top priorities in a long time, and I couldn’t use someone’s  _ dead mother  _ to get to them without being disgusted with myself.

I’m not a good person, but even I have my limits. Surprising, I know.

So when Snow finally comes back to the room after dinner -the fact that he eats fast but still spends so much time down there is beyond me- I’m anxious. I don’t let it show, of course. Two days of being decent to each other doesn’t erase seven years of mistrust, seven years of always making sure I didn’t do anything Snow could use against me, to make fun of me in the best case scenario, or to report me to the Mage in the worst.

He doesn’t look at me. Neither when he walks in, nor when he kicks his shoes off his feet -barbarian- and throws himself on his bed. Nothing, not even a glance my way. That’s unusual. 

I don’t like that. What makes him think he can ignore  _ me _ ?

“Snow?”

**…**

**Simon**

I can’t look at him.

I thought he’d give me a rest ; we spent years avoiding each other will living in the same room, after all, but no. He had to call my name.

It doesn’t sound anything like it did in my dream.

Fuck.

I can’t think about that. It’s so wrong that I dreamt about it. Not only because it makes no sense that my brain would picture Baz and I shagging, we only just started to tolerate each other, but especially because it’s so fucking disrespectful. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty for what happens in my head when I’m not even conscious, but fuck, it feels so rude and intrusive to dream about doing that with him. It’s almost as bad as the fact that I listened to him yesterday morning, in the shower, instead of leaving.

“Snow stop ignoring me,” he says, and I hear him get up.

He doesn’t make a lot of noise when he does, because he’s graceful like that, that fucking bastard, but I can still hear that he did. His feet don’t make any sound when he crosses the distance between our two beds.

I wonder if it’s a vampire thing, or if Baz naturally moves like he’s floating. I hope it’s a vampire thing. It means he isn’t just naturally perfect.

I wonder if his beauty is also a vampire thing. If maybe, being turned makes you more attractive. Emmeline Hale was pretty too.

“Snow,” he calls one again, standing next to my bed.

I’m lying with my back on him but I can sense his presence, can feel him towering over me. 

“Leave me alone, I’m tired.”

“No you’re not, it’s not even eight o’clock. Why are you ignoring me? I thought you said you wanted to be friends? As I see it, friends don’t ignore each other.”

Friends don’t think about shagging their friend, either.

Merlin I feel so terrible.

I can’t… I can’t do that. I can’t talk to him and pretend  _ that  _ didn’t happen, both the dream and then… then what I was thinking about when I came. It feels like I’m soiling him, having those dirty thoughts about him, and I hate it. I shouldn’t care about that, it’s  _ Baz _ , I don’t even like him that much, but I do care.

I have to tell him. I have to be honest with him, at least to have a clear conscience. 

“I’ve got something to tell you,” I say, turning around tentatively. 

He’s looking down at me, his arms crossed on his chest. He still has this stupid gel on his hair, keeping it off his face, away from those eyes…

Crowley his eyes.

I hate myself.

He seems puzzled for a second, frowning slightly, but he quickly goes back to a neutral expression “Well, I have something to tell you as well. And unless whatever you have to tell me has to do with the world ending, I think I should go first. It’s really important.”

He sounds serious. It must  _ really  _ be important. My gross, lustful thoughts can wait I suppose.

I push myself up with my hands in order to sit on my bed, legs crossed, and I wave my hand at the empty space in front of me in the bed. “Well, go on then.”

He climbs on my bed elegantly, his long legs folding under him when he sits. His back is perfectly straight, and his hands are resting on his thighs. I can’t believe he makes  _ sitting down  _ so fucking hot.

Or maybe it’s my sick brain making it hot. Yeah it’s probably that.

“So,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “What I’m about to say… It will probably sound crazy to you. Your first instinct will most likely be not to believe me, to think I’m lying to get under your skin, but it’s really not. Everything I’ll say is true.”

“Baz you’re scaring me a bit, just say your thing,” I tell him with a nervous laugh.

Crowley what would make Baz act so careful and serious? What can he possibly have to tell me?

“I doubt you know about that, since you know much about our world, but a few weeks ago, the Veil lifted.” He must see the confused look on my face, because he says right away. “Just wait, I’m going to explain what it is. The world of the living and the world of the dead are separated by a Veil that lifts every twenty years. The dead people who are tormented by things that were left unsaid when they died can cross this Veil to try and talk to people, more often than not, their relatives. The cause of their torments can be all sorts of things, but it’s usually a secret that died with them but that they do not want to keep, or a secret surrounding their death.” He pauses, gulping.

“Baz… did… did your Mother… did she come talk to you?”

Considering what he told me about the Veil, it’d make sense. I don’t know what secret Natasha Grimm-Pitch could have that she needs to tell her son, but it still sounds possible.

His face changes, hurt flashing in his eyes. Shit. I should have shut up.

“No. I… I thought she’d come. I hoped she would, but she didn’t,” he says, sadness in his voice. I shouldn’t have fucking asked. All I did was remind him that he thought he’d see his mum and didn’t. I’m a fucking idiot. He shakes his head, as if to chase whatever thoughts are going through his head away, and then he clears his throat. “Whatever. It means she died in peace, and I’m grateful for that. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I still  _ actually  _ got a Visiting, but not from my mother. Which is why I’m telling you all of this. It concerns you, Snow.”

Concerns me? How so? How could any of Baz’s dead relatives have anything to tell him, something that concerns me, on top of that?

“What is it?” I ask, looking into his eyes. I’ve been avoiding his gaze, but I feel like he needs to know I’m paying attention, and that I’m waiting and ready for whatever he has to tell me. 

“It’s really delicate… I really want to make sure you know I’m not lying to you.”

“Jesus Christ, Baz, you’ve already said that, I got it. Whatever you say, I’m going to believe you, okay?”

I don’t want to talk to him like that, but fuck, Baz being hesitant is making me nervous. Baz is always so sure of himself, it’s very strange to see him like that, and not the good kind of strange.

“Fine. So, the night before you came back, I got a Visiting. Well, I didn’t really get a Visiting, but there was a ghost in the room, here for a Visiting. But the thing is… that ghost came for you.”

“Me?” I ask, frowning. 

Why would I get a Visiting? I don’t know anyone who’s dead. 

“Yes, you. She was hovering over your bed, and she said your name. She said “My Simon.”. So yes, I’m positive that it was for you.”

“When you say she, who do you mean? Do you even know who it was?”

Could it be… ? No. I shouldn’t think that. I can’t get my hopes high, I’ll just end up disappointed. 

“I do. She talked to me, actually. She was disappointed to see I wasn’t you, but she was glad she could give me a message for you.”

“Baz. Please. Stop stalling. Who was it?” I ask, keeping my eyes locked on his. I see apprehension in them, as if he’s afraid to keep talking. Maybe he is. Maybe he fears my reaction. I’m not exactly known for being a calm, controlled person.

He closes his eyes shut the moment he opens his mouth, and his voice is steady but low “She was your mother.”

At first I don’t understand the words. Well, not exactly, I understand the words. I just don’t understand what they mean. What they imply.

My mother.

My  _ mother. _

“I have a mother?” I say under my breath, my mouth forming words my brain can’t even fathom.

**…**

**Baz**

I want to hug him.

The hesitation in his voice, the disbelieving look in his eyes, it breaks my heart, but not as much as his words.  _ I have a mother. _

I know that Snow is an orphan, of course, it’s one of the first things I learnt about him, but fuck, I didn’t realize what it meant for him. How much it affected it.

“Of course you do,” I say, my voice soft, so disgustingly soft, so that he knows I’m not mocking him.

“Yeah, I know,” he chuckles. “I know that I do, technically, but… it’s just… you know… I’ve never… I’ve never met her. Or my father. I… I never had parents, and I kind of had accepted that, but now apparently I have a mum, but she’s dead.”

“It’s a lot?”

“Exactly.”

So I don’t push. I let him take the time he needs to process the information I just gave him. 

I’d probably need time if someone told me they saw my mother’s ghost, and my situation isn’t nearly as bad as Snow’s. At least I knew my mum. I shared things with her, even if I remember so little of them. I know that she loved me. She called me ‘little puff’ and ran her fingers through my hair. She read me bedtime stories and rubbed my stomach as she did. 

Snow doesn’t have any memories like that. I don’t even know if he ever had that at all, or if he was abandoned when he was such a little baby that he didn’t even have any sort of connection with his parents.

“So,” he says, and his voice gets me out of my thoughts immediately, my eyes looking for something on his face, anything that would tell me what he’s feeling. The overall feeling I get is  _ lost. _ “I actually have a mum. A woman who existed, who had a name and a life. A person. What did she look like? Did she tell you her name?”

He’s fidgeting. I want to grab his hands, hold them as I speak.

But I don’t.

“She… I don’t remember much, to be honestly. I couldn’t describe her to you in detail. She stayed in the room only for a few minutes, and it was very late, I wasn’t completely aware of what was happening.” I fucking hate myself for that. I wish I could tell Snow every single detail about his mother’s appearance, just so that he would have something to picture when he thinks about her. The sad look on his face makes it worse. I don’t hold back this time, fuck the consequences. I reach out, and take his hands in mine carefully, squeezing them. His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t ask me to let go of him, so I don’t. Instead, I look him in the eyes. I’d rather look at our joined hands, etch the picture they make in my memory forever, but I think it would benefit Snow more if I looked at him. To anchor him. To prove to him that I’m being completely serious and honest. “But I do remember thinking that she looked like you. Or rather, that you look like her. You have the same smile.” As I say it, this beautiful smile of his blossoms on his lips. “She also had those stupid curls you have on your head,” I tease him, a bit too tenderly. I think about ruffling said curls for a moment, but I quickly forget that thought. I’m holding Simon Snow’s hands. It’s ten times better than touching his hair, even if my hands burn to be in contact with it. “That’s all I remember about her appearance, I’m sorry.”

“It’s already a lot,” he tells me, clearly moved. His eyes are full of tears, and his hands are gripping mine tightly. I don’t think it’s a sensation I’ll ever forget. “I can… I can actually imagine her. I’m not sure what I’m picturing looks a lot like her, but it’s so much more than what I could do up until now.” He chokes back a sob. “Thank you Baz, for… for describing her. It… It really means a lot. I… What about her name, though? Did she tell you her name?”

I nod, and the pressure on my hands increases a little bit, and then relaxes when I say “Lucy.”

**…**

**Simon**

I have a mum. 

It’s not just a vague concept anymore.

I have a mum.

A mum who looks like me and whose name is Lucy.

Lucy.  _ My mum. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i went from Simon having a wet dream to Baz telling him about his mother, yes, it was a rollercoaster to write


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz talk about Lucy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i posted 2 chapters yesterday instead of just one, so make sure you read both before reading this one!

**Simon**

“Did she say anything?” I ask, startling Baz. I’d been thinking for a while, I think he zoned out for a moment. “You said ghosts come when something is tormenting them, do you know what it was for her? Did she tell you?”

“She did not, but I think that not knowing her child was tormenting enough. That’s what I assumed at least. She probably just wanted you to know she exists. Well, I think what she really needed was seeing you, but…”

“But she didn’t,” I sigh.

I was on this bloody mission while my mum was here, trying to reach out to me.

I don’t often get mad at the Mage, I can’t, not after what he’s done for me, but fuck, this time I feel anger rising inside me. If he hadn’t kept me away, sending me after that poor woman, I could have seen my mother. Talk to her. I would have known one of my parents.

Baz’s thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand. It’s really strange coming from him, like when he kneeled next to me when I was throwing up or took my hands in his a few minutes ago, but it’s comforting. I don’t want him to stop. It’s warm -well, technically, it’s cold, because Baz’s skin is cold, but it feels warm.

“But she did say some things,” Baz tells me. I look at him, expectantly. “She said that she loved you.”

She loved you.

My mother loves me.

I don’t even care if she loves me, me, or if she loves me, the baby she knew before whatever happened to her happened. She loves me. That’s enough for me.

I have a mother who loves me.

It’s more than I have allowed myself to wish for in a very long time. 

I can feel tears burning my eyes, wanting to be shed. I don’t want to cry in front of Baz, but I’ve already done when… when we talked about Emmeline Hale, and he didn’t make fun of me back then. I don’t think he would now. Especially not considering the reason why I’m crying.

So I don’t hold it. I let my tears roll down my cheeks. I cry quietly, just tears, no sobbing or shaking shoulders.

Baz simply keeps holding my hands and stroking them. He doesn’t say anything, I’m not sure he even _breathes_. Does Baz need to breathe?

He must. His heart beats. It wouldn’t if he wasn’t breathing, right?

**…**

**Baz**

I can’t believe there was a time when I purposely pushed Snow to tears. When I relished in seeing him cry. It’s the worst fucking thing in the world. He’s not even crying that much, he isn’t making any noise, the only thing that shows his sorrow are the tear tracks on his face, his red eyes, and the occasional sniffing.

It’s still awful to see.

Snow’s face wasn’t made for sadness. Those blue eyes were made to shine with joy, his freckled cheeks made to turn red when he laughs, his rosy lips made to have a smile grow on them. 

“I’m really sorry you didn’t get to hear her say it,” I whisper.

I don’t actually expect him to hear me. Niall and Dev told me a million times it was irritating when I whispered because it was so low, but I suppose Snow has good earring. Maybe it’s a side effect of all this time he spent fighting, having to pay attention to all the details to find and defeat his enemies.

“It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s the Mage’s,” he answers, his voice low. 

He sounds almost… angry. That’s a first. Well, not to hear anger in Snow’s voice, but to hear it directed at the Mage. He’s so apologetic of the Mage usually, always justifying the way that bastard treats him and the bad things he does, it’s good to finally see him rebel a little bit, even if it’s just by showing that he’s angry at the Mage -and he has every fucking right to be. 

If anything had kept me from seeing my mother, I would have gone mad.

“But anyway, I don’t want to talk about him. I’d much rather hear about my mum, if you don’t mind.” His whole face lights up when he says ‘my mum’. It only makes me feel even worse about being the one who got to see her and not him. He deserves to meet his mother so much. 

“I don’t mind.”

“Did she say anything else? You know, apart from the fact that she loves me.” He blushes a little bit as he says it, and he sounds like he can’t quite believe what he’s saying.

Like he can’t quite believe his mother loves him.

“She did, actually. She said that she’s sorry she couldn’t stay with you, and that she misses you.”

“Couldn’t stay with me? Do you think that means that if she hadn’t died she… She would have wanted me?”

Crowley, if he keeps saying things like this I’m going to stop controlling myself and pull him into a hug. 

“Of course she would have wanted you, Snow, she’s your mother.”

“Not all parents want their children. There wouldn’t be so many kids abandoned in care if it was the case,” he chuckles bitterly.

“Well it was not your parents’ case, not according to your mother, at least. She said that she wanted you, and that your father did too.”

“She did?”

“She did.”

I thought telling that would make him feel better and maybe ever wipe that sad look off his face, but he only seems to be even sadder.

“So that must mean he died too,” he says, unknowingly answering the question that was on my mind. “Right?” He stares at me, as if he were looking for answers in my eyes.

“I don’t know about that. The only thing she said about your father was that she wanted you as much as he did, and that you had to tell him she wasn’t angry at him. I’m a bit puzzled about that. I think it means that she thinks you know your father, so whatever happens to him that caused you to end up in care happened after her death. I don’t understand what she would be angry at him for. Something surrounding your birth, since she mentioned the fact that she wanted you right after she asked me to tell you to tell your father she wasn’t mad.”

I don’t know why I’m talking so much. That’s a lie, I do know why I’m not shutting up. Because I’m not ready to hear Snow say those heartbreaking things again. I’d rather be the one trying to interpret his mum’s words. But after some time, I run out of things to say, and all I can do is prepare myself for Snow’s reaction to my words.

As always with him, his reaction isn’t what I expected. He simply… Doesn’t react. He’s still looking at me, and his eyes are expressive, so at least I know he isn’t going to put himself in that magic shield. I couldn’t deal with that. I couldn’t handle being the reason he needs it once again.

I call his name, squeezing his right hand gently, while I keep stroking the back of his hand with my left thumb. I’m glad he didn’t recoil at my touch, but instead, seems to be appreciating it. If I can bring Snow some comfort, I consider it a complete win. The fact that I’m holding his hands is already a win in itself. “Are you okay?” I ask.

He nods immediately. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m just trying to stop everything I just learnt from turning me crazy,” he says, a nervous laugh passing his lips.

“I can leave the room if you want some time for yourself.”

“No!” he shouts, gripping my hands. I feel his magic pulse against my fingers, like electricity tingling me. It’s the same feeling as when he started letting his magic flow inside me, except fainter. His cheeks turn so red I can almost smell his blood rushing and pooling there. “I mean, I… I don’t mind that you’re here, I… You don’t need to go, it’s… it’s nice,” he mumbles quickly, avoiding my gaze. “This. You, me. I… I’d like it if you stayed.”

“I’ll stay then,” I say, and I can’t hold back the smile that tugs at my lips. He wants me here. He said it. He doesn’t only accept my presence because it’s a bit better than being alone, he _would like_ it if I stayed. 

I’m going to start believing that I have a soul and that it ascended to heaven because this cannot possibly be really happening. It’s too good to be true. 

“Thanks,” he sighs, his shoulders hunching as if they were just relieved of an invisible weight. 

He’s probably embarrassed about the… strong reaction he had when I suggested leaving. I’m sure he thinks I’m going to make fun of him for his eagerness to keep me here. He has no idea I’m so much more eager to be with him than he is to be with me.

Being with Simon Snow feels like being alive. Only when I’m with him do I feel alive. His presence makes my heart beat faster, almost at a normal rate, and my emotions are always stronger when he’s the one causing them.

He’s so full of life, he must be able to breathe it into me, the way he can make his magic enter my body.

Speaking of, the tingling has stopped, to my great disappointment. I thought I was going to get a taste of Snow’s magic again, a taste of _raw power._

But he still hasn’t let go of my hands, so I suppose things could be worse.

**…**

**Simon**

Ok, admittedly, it was a bit strange shouting at Baz not to go like that, but he doesn’t seem to mind, if anything, he looks… glad? Maybe? I don’t know. I think it’s just because my magic tried to blend with his again, the annoying fucking thing. I hate that my magic has a mind of its own.

It’s not that I don’t want to give Baz my magic ever again, fuck, if I get to see him looking like he did back then again, I’d give him all my bloody magic, I just wish it didn’t try to leave on its own accord. I get it, you’d rather be inside Baz because he’d know how to use you properly, no need to try to escape like that. It’s a bit rude. 

Merlin I’m talking to my magic now.

I think my brain is just trying to think of something that isn’t my parents. Or Baz.

Baz who’s still holding my hands, despite the fact that I’m not crying anymore, and that I’ve made my magic retreat.

Baz who saw my mum’s ghost and told me about it, when he could have just kept it to himself.

I’m sure the Baz of last year would have kept it to himself. But the Baz of this year is different. I don’t know why. I don’t know why Baz changed, why he seems not to hate me so much anymore, why he accepted to try and be friends, but I’m really, really not mad at it.

I just hope it’s not a plot.

He said it wasn’t a plot. I think I trust him to have said the truth. Which makes no sense, Baz never did anything to earn my trust.

Except not using my weakness, lately, to end me when I was at my most vulnerable.

Except not bragging that I cried like a baby in front of him to the entire school.

Except just telling me about my mother’s Visitation instead of using it to blackmail me.

So maybe, Baz did make things to earn my trust. 

“Baz?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for telling me. About my mother.”

“Of course,” he says with a dismissive shrug that really isn’t like him at all. It’s more something I would do. It’s kind of cute, seeing Baz shrug. “I wouldn’t keep that to myself.”

“You _could_ have, though. Nothing was forcing you to tell me.”

“My conscience was.”

“Your conscience?” I tell him with what I hope is a smirk that doesn’t look ridiculous. “You have a conscience?”

He scoffs. “As surprising as it sounds, yes I do. But the truth is that I also have a dead mother, and that if I had missed her Visiting but you’d been there, I’d want you to tell me about it.”

“I know that’s kind of a stupid thing to say, because people have told me that so many times and it always made me want to roll my eyes, but I’m sorry for your mum. I really am. I’m not saying that just to be polite. It’s just… I miss my parents sometimes, and I didn’t even know them. I can’t imagine how much it must hurt, having known her and then lost her. It’s so much worse for you than it is for me.”

He frowns, and I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong. I shouldn’t have said that silly “I’m sorry.”. I shouldn’t talk about his mother. He probably doesn’t want to. 

“I also usually think it’s stupid when people tell me that. It made me sick in first years when some of the kids and the teachers would tell me they were sorry for my mum. It all sounded so… pointless. Them telling me they’re sorry wouldn’t bring her back. And those who said that… I know that they didn’t mean that they were sorry for _my mother_ ’s death. What they really meant was that they were sorry for Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s death. Nothing irritated me more than hearing about my mother as a mage, as the Headmistress of Watford, as the brave woman who died protecting the school. She was my mum, I didn’t care about all of that. What I had lost, it was not a brilliant woman who theorized so many things and created extremely powerful spells, it was the woman who tucked me into bed and held me in her arms. I didn’t give a fuck about Natasha Grimm-Pitch. It’s only recently that I learnt to accept and appreciate the admiration people have for my mother as a magician.”

I give him an encouraging smile as he looks up at me. 

I’m a bit surprised that Baz is opening up to me, especially about something as personal as his feelings surrounding the loss of his mother, but I’m glad he is. Firstly because it makes me feel less like a pathetic emotional fool, to have Baz talk about his feelings too, for once, but also because I think he needs to. 

I mean, he wouldn’t have said it in the first place if he didn’t need to get it out, right? 

Baz isn’t like me, he doesn’t do things on impulse. He actually _thinks_ before he opens his mouth. So I’m glad he told me.

It proves he trusts me, at least enough to share things about his mum with me. 

My heart does funny things when I think about Baz _trusting_ me with something. 

**…**

**Baz**

Did I really just say all of that to Snow?

Crowley.

Maybe Daphne was right and I should have seen a therapist. It would have kept me from talking about something as intimate as my mother to Simon Snow, of all people.

Eight snakes, I didn’t even tell all of that to Dev and Niall.

It’s hard talking about my mum to other people. They never _understand._ But Snow is an orphan, so I suppose that to some extent, he does understand. 

“Do you miss her often?” he asks out of the blue, his eyes in mine.

“Not as much as I used to. Sometimes I find myself missing her, for no apparent reason, and I realize that I haven’t thought about her for weeks. And it makes me feel like shit because I don’t want to forget her. She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten. But at the same time, it hurts so much, the missing. It also used to hurt more, when I was little and I really needed a mum, but it’s still painful now. I think it always will be. And you? Do you miss your parents often?”

It felt good to talk about my mother, but I’m not sure I can do it anymore. It’s better to focus the conversation back on Snow. And if he doesn’t want to talk about his parents either, I guess I’ll just have to find something else. Anything else, as long as I get to stay here, on his bed, with his hands on mine, a little bit longer.

“Not really. Not anymore. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with them. I thought about my parents all the time. I tried to think of reasons why I wasn’t with them, reasons that didn’t hurt too much. It’s silly, but I liked to think that they were some famous people who had had to give me up because they were too young to have a child and that it wasn’t good for their career, but that they still missed me, and that they hoped they could get me back someday,” he says with a small, a bit nostalgic, smile on his face.

“I don’t think it’s silly. If it helped you feel less sad about being an orphan… then it’s not silly.”

“It is silly, though. There was no way it was the truth. And evidently, it wasn’t. My mum is dead. Maybe my dad is too, and if he isn’t, he abandoned me. It’s not a pretty story. It was just a foolish story a lonely little boy made up to feel less unloved.”

“You’re not unloved,” I tell him. _I_ love you. But I can’t say that. So instead, I say “Your mum loves you. All this time, she loved you. She just wasn’t able to tell you. I’m sure she would have told you often, if she could have. She looked so fond of you when she visited you. She called you a pretty name, but I don’t remember what it was, let me think.” I don’t look at Snow as I focus on making my memory work. I’m not sure I want to see what look he has on his face now. It was something with flowers… no, not just flowers… roses… Yes! “Rosebud boy. That’s what she said. When she was looking for you, she called you her rosebud boy.”

I risk looking back at Snow, and I see a huge grin across his face.

“She did?” he says with an excited giggle.

“Yes. And also… there was something she wanted me to give you.”

It’s the most vivid part of my encounter with Snow’s mother, but I purposely avoided it until now. I didn’t know how to go with this. I could just have told him his mother wanted to kiss his temple, but I _couldn’t_ miss the opportunity to be the one to directly deliver the kiss, could I? And Simon is so euphoric right now, I think it’s the right time. He might not punch me for putting my lips on him.

“Something?” he asks, confused. “How can a ghost give you something?”

“It’s not a _physical_ kind of something. It’s not an object, or anything of the sort.”

It seems to only confuse him more.

“Then what is it?”

That’s it. I have to do it now. 

I take a deep breath, and push myself up until I’m on my knees. I sat close enough to Snow that I don’t have to crawl before I lean down. My eyes meet his as my face gets closer to his face, and his are a little wide. “Don’t freak out,” I whisper to him, before I press my lips at the exact same spot his mother did.

I feel him melt under my touch, hear a catch in his breathing.

When I, regretfully, move back, I see that his beautiful blue eyes are full of tears.

“No one’s ever kissed me like that,” he says under his breath, his voice choked with emotion.

We’re still holding hands.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon’s magic acts up again  
> The boys make a deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting another chapter because i felt like it ^^

**Simon**

I don’t know what to do.

I’m overwhelmed with so many feelings, so many sensations, and too much information.

Everything I just learnt about my parents, about my  _ mother _ , Baz kissing me the way my mother would have kissed me if I’d been there, Baz holding my hands and trying to be there for me.

It’s so much. It’s too much.

I don’t want him to leave but I’m not sure I can be around him.

I need the cold feeling of his hands on mine but I’m not sure I can keep holding them.

I want space. 

I want him closer.

I need him to go.

I’ll fall apart if he does.

“Snow?” Baz’s voice rings in my head like he’s very far, even though I know he hasn’t moved. “Snow, your hands are burning me.”

**…**

**Baz**

For all that, I don’t let go of them. He could bloody well make me go up in flames, for all I care, but I’m not letting go of him. 

Not when he’s like that, his eyes starting to stare blankly into space.

I can’t let his magic escape, not to shield him. If it does, it will be to rush inside my body.

It’d take it all, if it’s what it wants, if it’s what Snow needs, even if it burns me from within.

**…**

**Simon**

I try to snatch my hands from him when he says that, some still rational part of my brain remembering that Baz and  _ burning  _ aren’t a good equation at all, but he’s holding too tight.

I feel my magic pool where our hands are joined, hurting like it does when it wants to leave my body. It’s nothing like the pleasant feeling of it flowing inside Baz and merging. It doesn’t want to go to Baz now. It wants to go, full stop. To repel everything around me.

Penny says it does that to protect me. I’m not sure I believe that. 

“Help me fight it,” I whisper, hoping Baz hears me, hoping I’ve actually said that and not just thought about it in my head. “Must stay inside.”

Crowley I hope he understands. I can’t do that alone. 

I tried last time, I tried to fight it, to control my breathing the way Penny taught me to, but I couldn’t fucking do it, not on my own. It just made it worse.

I can’t see Baz anymore, everything is blurry, everything gets confused in my mind. I don’t have much time before I completely black out. 

My heart is racing in my chest.

“How can I help? Snow, tell me what to do.”

I can barely hear him. His voice is so faint compared to the sound of my blood pounding in my head, where he kissed me. 

“Breathe, help me breathe.”

“Okay, okay, breathe with me. Breathe in when I count, and out when I tell you to, okay?” He sounds panicked, but not half as much as I feel. It’s still a strange emotion to hear on Baz’s voice. “Go on, inhale. One, two, three, four, five. That’s it, you’re doing great. Now, out. Good, let’s do it again. One, two, three, four, five, hold, and… out. Your hands are starting to feel normal again, continue like that.”

He keeps talking, and I keep doing what he says.

His voice gets clearer and clearer, and the better I can hear it, the better it makes me feel. It sounds so different from Penny’s, but it’s just as comforting. It grounds me, so do his hands, that are still on mine, despite the fact that if they hurt me like that, they must have been unbearable to the touch for him.

Eventually, I can see him again, the worried curve of his brow, his nose that has been crooked since I broke it, and his eyes, grey like they’re constantly bathed in moonlight, looking at me with concern, and then relief when he sees me looking back at him.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“Of course. I told you I didn’t want a miniature sun inside the room again, didn’t I?”

“Oh…”

Yeah, of course it’s that. He didn’t help me because he cares, he did because I’d be an inconvenience to him if I hadn’t calmed down. Why did I think it was something else?

Why did I want it to be something else? I don’t give a fuck whether Baz Pitch  _ cares  _ for me or not. 

It’s just Baz.

He’s hated me for years. He probably still hates me a little. It doesn’t fucking matter if he doesn’t care.

_ It’s just Baz. _

“Snow, I was kidding,” he says seriously, trying to get me to look at him in the eyes. I don’t. “Well, partly. I really do not want a miniature sun in the room again. But a few days ago, I also told you I don’t like to see you suffer and that still stands. Bunce isn’t the only one you scared the other day. I don’t want you to be in that state again.”

“Careful, you’re going soft on me,” I say, because it’s easier to tease him than to think about what he just said, than to find something to answer.

I crave Baz’s kindness, but I don’t know how to handle it.

**…**

**Baz**

If you only knew how much softer I could go. If you only heard all the things I think about you, things I’m too afraid and ashamed to say aloud. If you only saw how much I love you.

**…**

**Simon**

He squeezes my hands hard in retaliation, compressing them so much that they hurt. “Soft, you said?” He raises one of his damn eyebrows and gives me one of those arrogant smirks he’s so good at.

Bastard.

I can’t believe he’s still holding my hands.

“How badly did my magic hurt you?” I ask, looking down at them. 

Since our hands are still clasped together, I can’t see the state his are in. I’m not sure I want to, if it’s anything like how Penny’s looked, but I don’t think he was in contact with my magic as much as she was. 

Almost reluctantly, he lets one of my hands go, the right one, and shows me his palm. It’s a faint shade of pink -which, I think, is quite red for a vampire- but it doesn’t have all the burn marks Penny’s hands had. I sigh in relief. 

“My hands are fine, Snow. It burnt, it still does a little, but it’s not anything I can’t fix with a flick of my wand.”

“Still, I don’t like it when people get hurt because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he says, and I roll my eyes at him. Of course it’s because of me. It’s my fucking magic acting up that did that. If I knew how to control it, it wouldn’t happen. “No really,” he continues. “It’s on me. I was the one holding your hands.”

“You still are.”

He lets go of my left hand the moment I say it. Shit. That was not my intent at all. I miss the contact as soon as I lose it. 

He looks away, and clasps his hands together, resting them on his lap, far from mine.

Too fucking far form mine. 

“I didn’t say it was a problem,” I say in a moment of boldness. 

**…**

**Baz**

What?

**…**

**Simon**

Baz’s eyes go wide, so much so that I can see his entire irises and a thin line of white all around them.

“Why would you say that?” he exclaims.

“Hey! You were the one who bloody held my hands for so long, I didn’t force you, don’t act all disgusted now you fucking arsehole!”

His cheeks turn the same shade of pink as his palms. 

**…**

**Baz**

He thinks I’m disgusted.

The bloody idiot.

Well, he’s not so much of an idiot.

I am disgusted.

But not at him for saying that.

At me for holding his hands for so long. For being so weak. For showing more of my feelings than I want to.

How can I pretend that I don’t like him even a little bit after how I just acted?

But maybe… maybe if Snow is acting the way he is right now… it’s because he likes me a little bit, too. Why else would he not consider me holding his hands a problem? I’m a bloody fucking vampire, and I’m  _ me,  _ Simon Snow isn’t supposed to… want to hold my hands. Or at the very least, to like the feelings of my hands on his.

Maybe it’s just because he wants this kind of touch, but doesn’t often get it. I very rarely see him and Wellbelove holding hands. I rarely ever see Wellbelove and him doing couple things. I don’t understand why. If Simon Snow were mine, I wouldn’t go five minutes without snogging him against the nearest wall. I don’t understand how Wellbelove can resist him.

_ Wellbelove _ . Bloody fucking Wellbelove who’s lucky enough to be dating him. I understand why. She seems like the dream girlfriend, for a straight man. Beautiful and kind. Always smiling, always proper, always  _ perfect _ . 

I fucking despise her.

“You’re the one who should be disgusted,” I tell him with a sneer, moving further away from him on the bed. I don’t miss the confused -and… hurt?- look on his face as I do. “What do you think your little girlfriend will think if she finds out you let me hold your hands?”

That makes him frown. “My girlfriend? Oh, you mean Agatha!” 

Yes, of course I do, you fucking moron. 

“Aggie and I aren’t dating anymore, Baz. We broke up,” he says calmly.

“Oh yeah? For how long will it be this time?” I ask, ignoring the frenetic way my heart is beating. “Three weeks? A month maybe? And then you’ll get back together and be a perfect little couple, like you’ve always done.”

“That’s not going to happen. We  _ really  _ broke up this time. Not that it’s any of your business, of course, but you don’t have to worry about my girlfriend being pissed because you held my hands. It’s not like it’s the first time you held hands with someone else’s significant other anyway, is it?” He isn’t calm anymore. He’s got this fire in his eyes, the same way he always did when we fought.

It had only been a few days since I’d seen it, but fuck, I did not miss it. As glorious as Snow looks when he’s angry, him smiling and being relaxed around me was a dream I didn’t want to wake up from.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You and Agatha! In the Wavering Wood last year, I… I bloody saw you, okay? She was my girlfriend and you fucking knew it and you still had to try and seduce her, didn’t you?”

Seduce her. The bloody moron thought I wanted to  _ seduce  _ Wellbelove. As if it was her attention I craved and not his.

“Aleister Crowley, Snow, I don’t give a single fuck about Wellbelove! Did you not get it? Are you so thick that you didn’t understand what I told you? I’m gay, for Merlin’s sake, I don’t want to steal your bloody girlfriend, I never did, and I never will!”

“Then why did you do that!” he screams, his cheeks flushed.

He looks so beautiful.

“To get under your skin!” I shout back. I don’t usually  _ scream  _ when I fight with Snow, it’s not dignified, but after going from comforting him and soothing him to  _ that _ , too many contrary emotions are hitting me all at once and I need to get it out in some way. “I knew you’d be pissed off if you thought I was flirting with Wellbelove, so I did! But I don’t care about her! I don’t  _ love  _ her!”

I only love you.

“You… You’re such a fucking arsehole I can’t believe you,” he groans, punching the matress. I start. He’d probably be able to break my nose  _ again  _ if he decided to throw punches at me instead of at the furniture. “Is everything just a game for you? Do you not realize how messed up what you did was?” He’s not screaming anymore, but anger radiates from him, dripping from his voice, darkening his eyes. “What if Agatha had caught feelings for you? That’s something normal fucking people sometimes do when someone flirts with them repeatedly, you know. What would you have done? Let her down the moment you couldn’t use her to get to me anymore? Make her believe in something that was just a bloody illusion, knowing that you could never love her like that? It’s so wrong Baz.”

It’s as wrong as you making me believe in this beautiful illusion that we could ever be friends, love.

“For God’s sake, I had forgotten how fucking cruel you can be,” he says, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Why can’t you always be the way you’ve been lately? Why can’t you act like that with everyone? Must you always be such a fucking monster to other people?”

Yes, Snow, I must always be such a fucking monster.

Because that’s all I am. 

A monster.

You know it.

You’ve tried proving it for years.

**…**

**Simon**

I see Baz’s whole face change. It becomes colder. Harsher. His eyes have that ugly, mean gleam in them, the corner of his lips going slightly upwards in a cruel smirk. It looks too much like how he always looked around me last year.

Maybe I went too far.

Maybe I shouldn’t have fought him.

I was really liking what was going on between us, that fragile friendship we were building. I shouldn’t have ruined it talking about Agatha. It doesn’t matter that much, what he did with her. Of course, it’s fucked up and he shouldn’t have used her like that, but in the end, Aggie doesn’t like him, and I’m not with her anymore, so I don’t really have a reason to be angry, do I?

“I don’t know how not to be an arsehole,” he says, and the bored tone of his voice irritates me. He’s  _ so much  _ like the Baz I know and hate right now.

I want the kind Baz who was holding my hands only a few minutes ago to come back.

“Yes you do. You weren’t an arsehole right now when you helped me calm down. You weren’t an arsehole when you told me the things my mother had said. You weren’t an arsehole when you suggested helping me with schoolwork and talked to me about your sisters. I think that you  _ can  _ not be an arsehole. You just choose not to.”

**…**

**Baz**

I think it’s the first time Snow stops fighting without being pried away from me by Bunce or going off. And he does it to tell me all those nice things I don’t want to hear.

Because he’s right.

Because I did choose to be like that.

I could have been like Snow. Friendly. Warm. Cheerful. 

But instead I decided to be like that. Mean. Cold. Morose.

“Can we make a deal?” he says, staring into me eyes, seriousness written all over his face.

It’s crazy to me how quickly he goes from an emotion to a completely different one. It’s a rollercoaster, being with Simon Snow. It’s a rollercoaster  _ being  _ Simon Snow, I suppose.

“Why would you want to make a deal with me? You’ve spent years thinking I was plotting against you. You don’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth.  _ Trust  _ is important for a ‘deal’, Snow, and we both know you trust me, as good and naive as you are.”

It’s so easy going back to antagonizing him. I wish it wasn’t. I wish throwing shit at him wasn’t as simple as breathing for me. 

“You’re right. I don’t trust you. But you’ve done things to earn my trust, and I think that with some more time, I could trust you. I want to trust you, Baz. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of the year fighting like we just did. It’s exhausting. I much preferred attempting to be your friend. So please, make a deal with me. You promise that you’ll stop being an arsehole and try acting like a decent person with me and the other people at school and I promise… Whatever you want.”

_ I want to trust you, Baz. _ He’s a nightmare. I wish he'd go back to stumbling on his words and insulting me, instead of telling me things like  _ that _ .

“Whatever I want? Those are dangerous words, Snow.”

He shrugs. “Don’t care. I don’t think you’ll ask for something that you know crosses a line. So go for it. Whatever you want, as long as I get kind Baz back.”

Kind Baz. As if I could ever be qualified as  _ kind. _

“I want you to stop accusing me of being a vampire all the time. And I want the bloody window to stay closed. You can’t expect me to be nice if I’m freezing my arse off every night.”

That makes him laugh ; a cute, soft sound that warms my heart. Crowley, I’m so fucked. This boy makes me so weak so easily.

With just a laugh, he can make me forget how to breathe.

“Okay, that sounds reasonable.”

“Are you sure? What are you going to say to me if you can’t make allusions to the fact that you think I am a bloodsucking monster every five seconds?”

I can almost hear him say ‘I don’t  _ think _ you are, I  _ know _ you are’, but what he truly says is “I suppose I’ll have to improvise. But it’s fine by me, really. So I promise. Do you?” he asks, offering me his hand. 

I don’t hesitate. I don’t even pretend to hesitate. I don’t care if it makes me look desperate, I immediately reach for his hand and shake it. I melt the moment our hands meet. I don’t know how I’ll be able to live without the feeling of Simon Snow’s warm hand in mine after I’ve experienced it multiple times today. 

“I promise.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They do homework  
> It’s definitely not the most thrilling chapter I’ve written, I just wanted to give them a little break, they deserve it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted two chapters instead of one yesterday so make sure you’ve read both before reading this one ^^

**Baz**

“Basil, I need help,” Snow says solemnly as I walk inside the room. He’s sitting at his desk, textbooks opened on it, a pen in his hand.

“Since when do you call me Basil?”

I like the way it sounds in his mouth. It sounds nothing like when my family says it, but that’s probably just because it’s _Snow_ and he makes me disgustingly soft. 

“Since I have an important request,” he answers, turning on his chair to face me, propping his forearm against the back of it. “This is serious stuff, Basil, I can’t just call you by your nickname.”

“Basil isn’t even my full name.”

I cross the room to put my bag down on the floor next to my desk, and then lean against the desk to look at Snow, my arms crossed on my chest. It forces him to turn his chair around completely if he wants to remain seated. He doesn’t, he simply stands up in front of me, a grin on his face.

“I know, but I’m not calling you Basilton. Sorry mate but that name is too ugly.”

“I recall telling you not to call me ‘mate’”

“No you said you’d spell me mute if I did.”

“Is that a challenge? Because I have no qualms doing so. I might get some peace if I did,” I tease him, taking my wand out and waving it at him, not very threateningly, I must say. I’m losing a lot of my splendour since Snow made me promise to. It was only yesterday, but it feels forever ago. We chatted so much last night, until it was dark outside and even I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I don’t even remember most of what we said, just the feeling of calm and warmth that didn’t leave me until this morning when classes brought me back to reality.

“You say that as if I’m the one talking. _You_ were the one who wouldn’t shut up last night.”

“I didn’t see you complain. Are you going to tell me what your request is or is it not that important after all?”

“Oh, it is very important,” he nods. “I need you to help me with my history essay, you know, the one about your bloody family.”

“That essay is due tomorrow, Snow, how haven’t you done it already?”

I shouldn’t even be surprised. Snow isn’t known for being particularly serious and organized when it comes to homework. 

“I’ve been kind of busy, okay? Are you going to help me or not? Because if you’re not I have to get back to work right now if I want to get something done.”

He has the same manipulation techniques as Ophelia, relying on getting me to pity him to get what he wants. I think he’s even attempting puppy eyes. 

The only, slight, difference is that my sister is 3 and Snow is 18.

I roll my eyes. “I’m going to help you. I’d say I know the topic rather well.”

“Of course you do,” he mumbles. “It’s unfair honestly. It’s _your family_ of course you’re going to know everything.”

“Well, it’s not my fault I come from a long line of rulers, is it? My family was in charge of Watford and of the Coven for centuries, there was really no way around learning about it in history class. What is really surprising is that we didn’t learn anything about the Pitches before eight year, courtesy of the Mage and his hatred of my line, I suppose.”

Snow winces when I mention the Mage, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Have you gotten anything done, yet?” I ask as I walk towards him, my chair in hand.

“I’ve tried finding a family tree or something because I was getting too confused with the names, but I couldn’t find one in any of the books I have, so I tried making one myself but I probably failed,” he answers, rubbing the back of his neck.

I can tell he’s uncomfortable, probably because he thinks I’m going to mock him if he indeed failed. I wish he didn’t. We won’t get anywhere if he is afraid of sharing his ideas with me. I tell him that. 

“Snow, if you want me to help, you have to trust that I won’t make fun of you. I don’t care if you say wrong things. It’s better if you give me your suggestions, even if they’re incorrect, than if I’m the one doing your work. _I_ won’t be the one doing your work, anyhow. I’ll answer your questions and guide you, but I’m not doing it for you.”

I take my ‘teacher voice’, as Mordelia calls it, when I say that. Maybe it’ll be easier for him if I don’t act so much like _Baz._

He gives me a puzzled look, and I wonder if it’s because of the tone of my voice or because of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it surprises Snow. But then again, a lot of things surprise him.

I settle next to him, sitting as comfortably as I can on my chair, which is harder than it seems when you have long legs and are sitting next to someone else around a desk made for one person. “Show me that family tree, I’ll tell you if it’s correct. Have you just written names or have you tried adding birth and death dates as well? It could help a lot to place people in time?”

“Yeah, I did that actually!” he exclaims excitedly. “Well, for some of them, at least.”

He looks through his notes, and gives me a piece of paper covered in his narrow handwriting. The first thing I see is “The Pitches”, written bigger than the rest, and underlined. 

I wonder if he thought about me when he wrote it. It’s my name after all. 

I shake that thought. I’m here to give him help with his homework, so that’s what I’m going to do. 

I take his paper, and look at it for a moment, from the top to the bottom. He’s missing some names, and a lot of dates, but overall it’s not bad. At least he got the timeline right. I see that he’s written “Ruled from 1134 to 2002???? too long????” on the side of the page. It makes me smile. He’s an idiot. 

“No, you didn’t miscalculate, the Pitches did rule the World of Mages for that long,” I tell him, pointing at what he scribbled.

“And no one overthrew you? That doesn’t make sense.”

“They didn’t overthrow us, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t try. A lot of people have wanted to take the Pitches’ seat at Watford and on the Coven, but none succeeded. The Old Families represented the majority of the World of Mages here in Britain for a very long time, before this wave of new mages that came in the last centuries arrived, and they have always supported the Pitches. It’s very hard overthrowing a powerful government with many supporters.”

He listens attentively, nodding from time to times. “I still don’t understand why you never crowned yourselves, or something.”

“Arrogance. No one had been able to overthrow the Pitches, they didn’t think anyone ever could. And technically, no one did. If my mother hadn’t died, or if I’d been old enough to take over, we would most likely still be in charge. That’s something you’ll have to mention in your essay if you chose the subject about the end of our line. Did you? Choose this subject I mean?”

“I’m not really sure, but it seems easier, so yeah I think I’ll go for that. Since you’re helping me, I guess it’ll be even easier, you should know the recent history of your family,” he says with a grin.

“I told you I’m not going to be the one doing your essay. I can give you the facts, but you have to bring your own analysis of what happened and why you think it did. First, let’s get all the dates you need right, shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s do that. Where do I start?” he asks, taking back his paper and looking at it a bit desperately. 

“You tell me that. What’s the subject?”

He parts his lips, and look at me for a few seconds, confused. Crowley, he’s a lost cause.

“We’re not going to get anywhere with that attitude, Snow. Find the assignment and read the subject you chose to me.”

He does. 

He makes the mess on his desk even worse, some papers and even a book falling on the floor, but he eventually finds what I asked him to. He clears his throat as he reads “Was the change in the line of succession an important factor in the Pitches’ downfall? Describe and analyse the phenomenons you observe.”

In my opinion, that’s a shit subject, and not the one I chose. It’s clearly biased of our teacher, and tinted with some racism, to give us a subject that implies that the Egyptian branch of the family taking over has caused the family to lose its position. Besides, I don’t want to have to talk about my mother as a historical figure, and I know that if I chose the subject that mentioned my mother, the teacher would find something to say about it. Our history teacher is fairly new in the staff, he didn’t work there when my mother was Headmistress, so he doesn’t have the same respect for her, and therefore permissiveness with me, as the others.

“What is that change in the line of succession this is about?” Snow asks. 

“I think you’re supposed to figure that out by yourself. It’s common knowledge in the World of Mages.”

“I think you forget the part where I wasn’t raised in the World of Mages.”

“Even then, I’m sure it’s been mentioned in history class at least once.”

“Baz. Please. Just tell me what it is. You said you’d tell me the facts.”

“I also said I wouldn’t be the one doing your essay,” I sigh, though honestly, if Snow asked kindly, I fucking would do his essay. But I shouldn't. It’s not good for him, if I do all of his work for him. “Look at your family tree, starting from the bottom,” I tell him, putting my finger on my mother’s name. The bottom of the family tree. “You should find the change rather easily.”

He focuses his attention on the paper, and seconds later, points at a name. “Here! That’s the change, right? That guy, he isn’t the son of that one, just a cousin. And he has your stupid name,” Snow comments.

I’d like to say something but even I can’t defend the name Tyrannus. 

“I was named after him, he was one of her relatives my mother admired a lot, so yes, he has the same name as I do. And you’re right, that’s when the change happened. The English branch of the family, that had been ruling since the 12th century was replaced by the Egyptian branch.”

“So you have Egyptian roots?”

“Yes, but can you focus on your assignment?”

“You don’t look Egyptian. You’re so… pale.”

Crowley, who allowed me to fall in love with this moron.

“Assignment, Snow.”

“Baz Pitch doesn’t want to talk about himself? That’s a first,” Snow chuckles.

“Snow, this is my last warning. Either you focus on the work at hand and I help you, or you keep questioning me and you’ll have to do your essay on your own. I’d be _delighted_ to talk about myself, but later. For now, tell me what do you think happened when the succession line changed to an _Egyptian_ family.”

“People were racist cunts about it? Penny told me racism wasn’t as big a thing in the World of Mages as it is for Normals but that it’s still an issue. So I suppose that people from Africa coming and ruling in good old England wasn’t exactly something people here were enchanted about.”

“Pretty much, yes. It was a scandal, really, when my ancestors came to England. It weakened my family’s influence a little bit, before Tyrannus Pitch imposed himself as the rightful and skilled leader he was and gained the people’s respect. Besides, no matter what, the name Pitch has always had an aura of power with it that made the transition easier.”

“No one wants to cross the Pitches?”

“Yes. Now, let’s see if you’re logical. Of the few information I just gave you, which do you think goes into the ‘describe’ and which goes into the ‘analyse’ part of your essay?”

As I say that, I take a blank page, steal one of Snow’s pages, and draw a straight line in the middle of the page. On one side, I write “Describe”, on the other, “Analyse”, and then I give Snow the paper.

**…**

**Simon**

Of course the tosser can make a perfectly straight line without a ruler. 

His handwriting is so neat, all elegant loops and sloping letters. I never understood how people can get such a pretty handwriting. I tried making mine better, but it still looks bad. I’ll blame it on the fact that Baz is left-handed. All the left-handed people I know have pretty handwritings. 

He pushes the paper in front of me. I suppose that’s the moment when I’m supposed to do something. “Well, I suppose that in describe, I have to say that the line of succession switched to the Egyptian branch of the Pitch family, and that it was not well received by the people, and in analyse I talk about the racist cunts?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Baz says with a smile.

He has a beautiful smile, when it’s not cruel or scornful.

“Now let’s check your dates, since those are particularly important in history.” He takes my family tree -or _his_ family tree, I guess. It seems so crazy to me that his entire family is in history books- and puts it between us. “Most of the birth and death dates you put are correct, but since the essay is about the Pitches as leaders, it’s important that you add the date when each person became Headmaster or Headmistress, and the date when they became Head of the Coven if it’s a different date. It usually isn’t, except for Tyrannus. The Coven was reluctant to let him fully fulfill his role and only named him Head of the Coven months after he arrived in England.”

He adds two dates next to those I’ve already written under “Tyrannus Pitch II”. “Then, for William, it’s December 4th, 1922,” he tells me, tilting his chin towards the paper, probably to tell me to take notes. “For Edward, July 28th, 1939, and for Natasha, April 13th, 1990.”

His breath catches when he says his mother’s name. Fuck, I should have chosen another subject. Why did I not think about the fact that I’d have to make Baz talk about his _dead mother_.

“Just a thing. When I talk about her in my essay, do I just say Natasha Pitch or do I have to say Natasha Grimm-Pitch? Because when people talk about her, I’ve heard them say both. Also, how the hell do you remember those dates?”

“It’s my family’s history, Snow,” he says like it’s obvious. “So of course I remember the dates. And you should write Grimm-Pitch. She married my father before she became Headmistress, and from what I’ve been told, the Grimm part of her name was very dear to her. She didn’t like being called just Pitch after her wedding,” he says, with a softness to his voice that is starting to become less unusual. 

I make a mental note of absolutely _always_ saying Grimm-Pitch when talking about his mother. 

I also make a mental note of trying to get Baz to talk about his mother again, later, when it won’t be for the homework. He talks about her so rarely. I’ve known him for seven years and I’ve almost never heard him say a word about her. It’s probably because it’s painful for him, but I’d like to know more about her. He seems to love her so much. 

I mean, she’s his mother, so I suppose it makes sense that he loves her. Not that I know much about having a mother.

“Now that you have the bases, let’s get to work. There’s a lot to be done.” 

**…**

**Baz**

The moon has replaced the sun in the sky for a couple of hours when Snow writes the final word of his essay. 

“I’ll proofread it tomorrow, if you want, but right now I’m knackered,” I tell him as he puts his pen down -more like throws it on the desk in relief.

He lets himself fall on the desk too, his head in his arms. “I’m never starting an assignment so late ever again,” he says with a yawn. He turns his head to look at me, his cheek pressed against his bicep, his eyes red from how much he rubbed them in an attempt to keep them open a bit longer while he was writing. “Thanks a lot for the help. I could have never done something this good without you.”

“Pleasure is mine. It’ll be 20 pounds.”

He laughs at that, his shoulders shaking, which makes his head shake as well. Crowley he’s gorgeous, even when he’s laughing like that. Especially when he’s laughing like that.

“Even if I wanted, I couldn’t even give you 20 pounds,” he says once he’s stopped laughing.

He sits back up, stretching, his cheeks pink and eyes still shining with amusement as he looks at me. “But you have my eternal gratitude.”

He’s so beautiful and he’s so close. If I leaned in just a little bit I could… I could.

I have to get away. To be far enough from him that I can’t touch him. I can’t ruin this with a stupid fucking kiss. 

If his friendship is all I can get, I’ll gladly take it. 

“Your eternal gratitude will do then,” I say as I stand up. I went to the en suite to change into my pyjamas when he started writing and didn’t need my assistance too much, so now I can just go bury myself under my covers and not move until morning. It was a brilliant fucking idea, changing while he was working, even if it meant sitting next to Snow in my pyjamas while he still had his trousers and shirt on. Thankfully he didn’t tease me for it -I would have threatened to stop helping him if he did.

He sheds his shirt, and I look away as he takes his trousers off. He’s given up on wearing pyjama bottoms since the window stays closed now, as part of our deal. I don’t know how he can be that comfortable around me now that he knows I’m gay. I was expecting a more… Snow-typical reaction. Mistrust. Glancing at me to see if I’m looking at him -which I’m not, unless the lights are off. Rude, unwanted comments about it. 

But I suppose that my queerness isn’t as big of a deal for him as my undeadness. 

Once I hear him settle on his bed, I look back at him. “Snow, before you fall asleep, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Well, do tell. But can you turn the lights off before? They’re hurting my eyes.”

“Snow, **lights out** is a first year spell,” I say, wand in hand and with magic to make the spell work as I say it for a more dramatic effect. “It’d be time you mastered it.”

“You know my magic is a mess. I’d probably make the electricity in all of Mummers House trip, so I’d rather not risk it. What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

I set my wand back on my desk, in a way that makes it easy to grab quickly if I need to, as I do each night, and then I focus back on Snow. “I know that you probably avoided the topic on purpose, but it’s about your mother.”

I see him tense. “What about her? Is there anything you haven’t told me?”

“No, it’s not that. You want to know who she is, right?”

“Well, of course I do, that’s a stupid question.” It is. “But I only know her name, and it’s a very common name, there’s no way I could find her,” he says, a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“That’s the thing. There might be a way.”

That gets his attention. He pushes himself up on an elbow, as if to try and see me better. He can’t, of course, it’s much too dark. 

“What way?”

“Well, your mother seemed rather young so she must have been in her early twenties when she died, and since she must have died when you were a little baby, that means she was at Watford while my mother was Headmistress, and back then, all the students in a year had their picture taken together. I know that my mother kept those pictures. They’re very likely at her office at my home, so I was thinking about taking you there over a weekend to look through my mother’s things and see if we can find your mother in those pictures. That would give us her name and her age, and once you’ll know that, it should be easier for you to find much more information about her and possibly your father. But to take you to Hampshire, I have to wait until a weekend when the Mage is away. It’s not forbidden leaving the school, as long as you go after your last class on Friday and come back before your first class on Monday, but I don’t want the Mage to know you’re going to my place, so it has to be done when he’s not at Watford. Considering he’s gone most of the time, it shouldn’t take too long.”

Snow stays silent for a moment after I’m done talking, which makes me anxious despite the fact that I know it’s probably because he’s processing everything I just said.

Eventually, he opens his mouth. “That would be amazing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little something ; I chose April 13th, 1990 as the date when Natasha became Headmistress because it’s a Friday 13th and I thought it was ~comical~


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny pays Simon a visit  
> Baz talks to his mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another “calm” chapter before going back to more eventful ones ^^
> 
> i wrote a chapter i’m SO excited about today, i can’t wait to post it!!

**Penny**

Simon has been distant this week. I’ve barely seen him, while we usually spend most of our days together. I know that he needs to rest, after his mission and everything that happened ever since, but I wish he would still come see me. I haven’t seen him in three months, and the few times I saw him this week, he was miserable. I miss him. I miss my Simon, the Simon who’s cheerful and always smiling.

I’ve had enough of the Simon who locks himself inside his room. It’s Friday night, I’ve waited enough for him to come to me.

That’s why I’m in front of his room, my ring glowing at my finger as I spell the door open -some people know that I can get inside Mummers despite being a girl, but only Simon knows that I can open the door to pretty much any room with a spell my mother invented, and it’s for the best. 

The scene I witness when the door opens isn’t anything I ever expected to see.

Simon and Baz are sitting on Baz’s bed, facing each other, chatting. There’s a plate with sandwiches between them, on the side of the bed. Simon has his back on me, so I can’t see it, but I suppose he has a sandwich in his hands.

“Bunce?” Baz says, looking right at me as Simon turns around in a jerk.

**…**

**Baz**

Penelope Bunce is on my doorstep, looking something between annoyed and puzzled, as I’m having dinner with Simon Snow in our room. And here I thought my life couldn’t get any stranger.

“What are you doing here? In case you got lost, this is the boys’ dormitories,” I tell her.

“I came here to see Simon,” she answers. “But I see he’s in good company.”

“I wouldn’t call him good company,” Snow says, but the grin on his face contradicts his words.

“Whatever. Would you mind moving to your bed? I really want to talk to you. And Basilton if you could…”

“Hey! Don’t kick him out, it’s his room too,” Snow interrupts her, his voice more irritated than I’ve ever heard it when directed at Bunce.

Well, that’s new. I can’t say I don’t like it. I particularly enjoy the baffled look on her face. She probably wasn’t expecting that. In truth, I wasn’t either.

However, I don’t have the slightest interest in listening to Snow’s and Bunce’s private chats, so I stand up nonetheless. “It’s okay, Snow. I’m just going to go be a nuisance for Dev and Niall for a while.”

“You sure? Because you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” he says, grabbing my wrist.

He’s so tactile. It’s something I had noticed already, but it has been confirmed since we started spending some time together without fighting. In the past, I had seen him rest his hand on Bunce’s or Wellbelove’s arms a lot when he was talking with them. I assumed it was something he did because they were his friends -friend and _girlfriend_ . Apparently, it’s something he does with me too, now. He has this reflex of touching me as he speaks, whether it’s just a hand on my arm or knee, or his fingers circling my wrist like now, but he’s almost always _touching me_ when we’re close enough to. It’s driving me mad in the most delicious of ways. 

“I’m sure, Snow. I’ve been around you too much, anyway, I need a break.”

I hope he knows that I’m joking. I can never know with him. He never seems to understand my teasing as just that, teasing. It’s probably my fault, since I spent years telling him mean things but not in a teasing way.

“Bye, magelings, have fun planning to feed the homeless and save kittens from trees or whatever it is the two of you do when you’re together.”

And I’m out. 

I know I told Snow I was going to go with Niall and Dev, but it’s Friday night, so they’re probably shagging at this very moment -Dev told me they usually fuck on Fridays to relieve the tension of the week. Then he proceeded to start describing how _tense_ they are when they start and I wanted to gag. Sometimes I wish Dev remembered that he’s my _cousin_ and that I don’t want to hear him tell me how he fucks Niall. It’s less bothering when it’s Niall telling me things, because I can pretend it’s not Dev he’s talking about, and because Niall is much less graphic with his descriptions. 

I can’t wait to get a good shag and force Dev to listen to every detail of what happened. Revenge is my favourite dish. 

So I most definitely cannot go to their room, unless I want to act as an annoying cockblock, or -and- to be scarred for life. 

Therefore, I decide to go to the Catacombs instead. I need to feed, anyway. 

**…**

**Simon**

“Since when are you close to Basil?” Penny asks, disbelief written all over her face, as we settle on my bed. 

I’ve taken the plate of sandwiches Baz had brought up, and it’s resting on my lap. He told me Cook Pritchard is a distant relative of his so he doesn’t have any trouble getting food from the kitchen, which is why he’s the one who went. Cook Pritchard gives me food when I ask, but I have to fight for it a little, Baz doesn’t. I think it also has to do with the fact that he doesn’t eat in public, and therefore, must often go to the kitchens to get food he can eat on his own. Which makes me think that he didn’t eat any of the sandwiches he brought. I’ll have to save one or two for him.

I shrug at Penny’s question. “Like three days ago, maybe? I was tired of fighting him all the time, and he was being a decent human being, sometimes, so we agreed to start trying to be friends. So far, it’s been a bit of a mess, but it’s pretty cool when he’s nice so I hope we won’t fuck that up.”

But I always fuck everything up. 

I don’t tell Penny that. She’s going to play therapist if I do, and I hate it when she does that. I love Penny, but it’s really annoying when she tries to get me to talk about things I’d rather ignore. It hurts more to think about it than to _not_ think about. 

She hums. “Well, as long as you think it’s good for you, I have nothing against it. But Baz, Simon? You’ve spent seven years antagonizing him and accusing him of things any time you could. Do you really believe you could be friends, with a past like yours?”

See this is why I don’t like talking with Penny about things that concern me. She always finds upsetting things to say. 

“Yes, I do. I know that Baz and I have a complicated history, but getting to spend time with him like we did tonight, for example, it’s well worth putting the past behind. I don’t care how much he hurt me as long as now he stops hurting me.”

**…**

**Baz**

The rats are having a field day of playing me, today. Those silly little creature know that they should hide when I arrive if they want to be able to keep running the Catacombs all day and night, so that’s exactly what they’re doing. Sometimes, one of them shows the tip of its snout, but retreats before I can catch it. 

I don’t usually cast spells in the Catacombs, because magic works in mysterious ways, here. I think it’s because the building is so ancient and so drenched with magic -it is believed that when a magician died, their magic stays where their remains are, and the Catacombs are full of dead people. 

But tonight, I don’t think I have a choice. So I take my wand out, and cast “ **Come out, come out, wherever you are** ,” and suddenly a dozen rats on my lap. I catch two of them and snap their necks. The other rats run back into their hiding spot, making irritating squealing noises.

Crowley, I hate rats. I wish there was something else to drink here, but the drawbridge is closed, and I don’t really trust the animals in the Wavering Wood anyway. They might have been enchanted by the nymphs, or have drunk from the magic water the dryads live in.

Rat blood doesn’t taste anything particular. It’s not good, like unicorn blood, but it’s not gross like merwolf blood. It’s kind of like the water of blood. You can’t really say you love it, but you can’t say you hate it either. It’s the same thing with the pigeons in London, except for the fact that rat blood is a little bit warmer, for some obscure reason. 

Once I’m done feeding, I stand up to go sit somewhere else. Near my mother’s tombstone, to be precise. I let my fingers run along the cold marble, over the golden carved letters that read her name, and her date of birth and death. 

The grave is a familiar kind of cold. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to touching my mother.

I know that her remains aren’t here, she burnt, there were only ashes left of her, and Fiona and Father scattered them in a place I was never interested in knowing the location of. I have her tombstone, that’s enough. 

No, of course, it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. It’ll never be _her_. But people don’t come back from the dead, so this is all I have.

“Hello, Mother. It has been a long time since I last talked to you, hasn’t it? I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t at Watford, and then I was preoccupied because _he_ wasn’t at Watford. Simon Snow. You probably know him as well as if you two were acquainted, with everything I’ve told you about him. It’s like I cannot stop talking about him. Especially to you. You can’t exactly tell me to shut up,” I scoff. “I think I like talking to you about him because you both mean so much to me. I wish you could have known him, Mother. I wonder what you’d have thought of him. He’s a little bit of a brute, sometimes, but he’s a really good person. What I wonder most is what you’d have thought of my feelings for him. Would you have been disappointed, like Father is? Would you have hated me for it? Fiona says you wouldn’t have, that despite your traditionalism, you could have accepted it, because I’m your son and you love me. I’m not sure if I believe Fiona. No offense, but I think that she tends to picture you as better than you really were. She really admires and loves you, and I think she exaggerates some of your good traits and ignores the bad ones. I don’t blame her, though. You were her sister. Of course she loved you dearly. _I_ love my sisters very much. I don’t know if you’re okay with me calling the girls my sisters. Maybe it’s a rude thing to say it to you, considering they’re the daughters your husband had with another woman, but I don’t think you’d be offended by that. I think you’d be glad that Father has found Daphne, even if you loved him. She’s really good for him, for the both of us. I hope I’ll find someone like her, someday. Or someone like you. Someone who loves me the way the both of you love Father. But I know that’s never going to happen, because even if someone could ever love me that way, I don’t think I could accept their love. I don’t think I could love someone who isn’t Simon Snow. There was a time when I thought I could, but then he decided that he wanted to be friends with me and turned my whole world upside down. No one could ever make me feel the way he does with just a smile or a delicate touch. He… He makes me feel alive, Mother. No one else does. When I’m with other people, I feel like I’m not really _with_ them. Like there’s a barrier between normal people who need to breathe and have a heart that beats fast, and me. With Snow, that barrier blurs, and then disappears. Because he’s a bit of a freak too, with his magic that’s bigger than his body, too powerful for him, for anyone. We both have _something_ that separates us from the rest of the world. We match in a way I could never match with anyone else. He’s so special to me, Mother. I’ve said it to you a million times, I know, but he really is. And I love him. I love him so much that it hurts. Did you ever love someone that could never be yours, Mother? I don’t think you did. I think that you were lucky, that Father was the one for you. I envy that. Because as much as my heart longs for him, I know that Simon Snow isn’t the one for me.

**…**

**Penny**

Simon isn’t up to talking about anything. I tried talking to him about his blossoming friendship with Baz, he said he didn’t want to think about it. I tried asking him about how he felt regarding his mission, he said he didn’t want to think about it. I tried asking him about the classes he missed, to know if he needed any help, he said he didn’t want to think about it.

I think that the real problem is that he doesn’t want to talk to _me._ He seemed to rather enjoy talking to _Basil._

I know it’s selfish, because Simon is allowed to have other… friends, but it makes me jealous. I was the one who’s been here for him for _years_ , the one who’s always loved and supported him, and he’d rather spend time with someone who actively did their best to hurt him for so long?

“You can tell me if I bother you, you know,” I eventually tell him, a bit bitterly. 

“What?” He frowns. “You’re not bothering me, Penny. Why would you say that?”

“It’s the impression you give me. I try talking to you about things but you refuse, while you were chatting with Baz when I arrived. If you didn’t want to talk to me, you could have said it, I’d have come back another day.”

“Penny, no!” he exclaims, looking at me with wide eyes. “Of course I want to talk to you, it’s just that the things you want to talk about make me uncomfortable. I’d like to talk about something that isn’t going to make me feel bad. I was having a pretty good day so far, I don’t want it to be ruined by negative thoughts. That’s all.”

That makes sense. Simon told me repeatedly about that list of things he doesn’t think about that he has. I don’t think that’s healthy, but when I tell him about what’s healthy or not, he rolls his eyes and stops listening to me. 

“Tell me about your day, then,” I say encouragingly. “What happened that made it a good day?”

His face lights up immediately. Good. I’d rather see him smile than make face at all of my attempts to start a conversation.

“Well, first of all, I managed to get Cook Pritchard to give me _a lot_ of scones this morning, which really made the day start well.” 

“Of course it did,” I tell him, shaking my head tenderly. 

“And then I read one of my comic books, which was nice even if I’ve already read it a million times. I didn’t have lunch because I wasn’t really hungry since I ate my breakfast late, but I ate some of Baz’s crisps. It pissed him off when he came back. That was funny. I talked with him, and honestly, it’s really great being with him when he’s not being a prick. The he got me dinner.” He shows me the plate he keeps next to him. He hasn’t finished it, something very unusual for Simon. “And then we talked some more. And that’s it. I just spent the day doing things I enjoyed and not worrying about anything. It was amazing.”

“And what about your schoolwork?” I ask with a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

He just groans and hides his head in his pillow.

**…**

**Simon**

Penny stays with me for a solid half hour after that, and then leaves because it’s late already and it’s suspicious when she sneaks out of Mummers too late. 

So I’m left alone in the room, but not for long, because not even a quarter of an hour after Penny went back to the Cloisters, the door of the room opens and Baz walks in.

“Bunce has decided to go back to the dormitories where she belongs?” he asks as he sits on his bed. 

“Yeah. Did you have fun with your friends?”

“I didn’t actually go with Dev and Niall. I wanted to let them enjoy their evening without their friend walking in,” he snorts.

He takes his shoes off, and opens the two top buttons of his shirt as he sits back against the wall. I try not to stare at his long fingers as they elegantly undo the buttons, nor at the pale skin that it exposes. Crowley, he’s so… he’s so…

_Hot._

And he must _literally_ be hot, if he’s opening his shirt like that. He probably went to feed.

I’d tease him about the rats but I promised not to talk about his vampirism, and I’m pretty sure that includes mentioning the rats.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t want to assume things, but I think Snow is looking at my chest, where I undid my shirt. Fuck, if I knew he’d look, I’d have given him a show.

I’m so bloody ridiculous.

As if Snow wanted _me_ to give him a show. 

Maybe if I had a cleavage to show off, he would.

**…**

**Simon**

“I’m sorry about Penny coming. She was worried about me, I don’t usually go that long without seeing her, not when I _can_ go and see her.”

“I don’t mind that she came, Snow, I’m just teasing. I don’t particularly like being surprised by Penelope Bunce in my own room, but things could be worse, I suppose.”

“Okay. Nice. I thought you were upset when you left.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Anyway,” I saw, clearing my throat. Why does it always get so awkward when I’m the one starting the conversation? I should just leave that to Baz. “I saved you two sandwiches, I thought you might be hungry.”

**…**

**Baz**

Merlin. He’s so adorable. I love him.

**…**

**Simon**

I take the plate, and get out of bed to give it to him, but I can’t reach his bed before he raises his hand to stop me. “I’m not hungry. But you can put them there, I might eat them later.” He tilts his chin to point at his desk.

So I put the plate there. 

When we go to bed, he still hasn’t touched it.

**…**

**Baz**

I wait for Snow to be sound asleep to eat the sandwiches, still a bit moved by the fact that he was thoughtful enough to not only pay attention to the fact that I hadn’t eaten, but also to save me some food. Snow. Not eating food to give it to me. 

If he wasn’t so painfully straight, I’d take it as him declaring his undying love for me. 

**…**

**Simon**

When I wake up, I notice that the sandwiches are gone from the plate. I smile.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz spends some time with Dev and Niall.  
> He gets a concerning call from his father
> 
> or
> 
> And just like that, problems start again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling like posting another chapter now instead of waiting so here we go

**Baz**

Dev suggested we go kick a ball around together this evening. He says it’s because I skipped practise this week -between spending time with Snow and football practise, the choice wasn’t really hard- but I think he just wants to question me. He’s been looking at me suspiciously all evening. Niall tagged along, which confirms that we’re not just going to play football. Niall hates it with a passion, he only goes to our matches because he’s a good, supportive friend -and because he can look at Dev’s arse in his football kit- so if he’s here, it’s because those two have ulterior motives.

After only a couple of passes, Dev says “Okay, what’s happening between Snow and you?” 

Here it is.

I freeze. Are we that obvious? I’ve really tried not changing my attitude towards Snow when we’re in public, so that no one would know, but it’s only been three days since he came back to class and Dev and Niall can already see through my bullshit?

They’re both looking at me expectantly, Niall sitting on the floor and Dev standing in front of me, resting one of his feet on the ball.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not stupid, Baz. There’s something going on between the two of you. He hasn’t stopped looking at you whenever you had class together, and not in the way he did in fifth year. He didn’t seem like he was watching you because he was suspicious, I think he was just enjoying the view. Not that there _is_ a view to enjoy.”

My cheeks would burn at that if I had enough blood in me to blush. 

“Fuck off. I’m hotter than you. But it’s irrelevant, because Snow definitely wasn’t ‘enjoying the view’. He’s straight.”

“Yeah, so was I until Niall shoved his tongue down my throat.”

“It’s not what happened and you know it!” Niall protests.

“Whatever you say, babe. So anyway, have you finally worked through all of that sexual tension and shagged him?” Dev asks, kicking the ball in between his feet absentmindedly. 

“I’m not fucking Snow.”

“But are you going to?”

Fuck, I wish.

“No. He’s _straight_. I don’t go after straight boys,” I say, glancing at Niall with a smirk.

“That’s not what happened, eight fucking snakes. And Dev isn’t straight.”

“I sure am not. Neither is anything about the way Snow looks at you,” Dev says, focusing back on me after blowing a kiss at Niall, who winks back.

They’re disgusting. I hate them. I don’t know why I’m even friends with those two.

“Look, Dev, I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but Snow definitely doesn’t look at me that way, so please stop.” It hurts too much to think about Snow looking at me because he, as my beloved cousin said, _enjoys the view_ when I know that it’s never going to happen. We’re not all as lucky as Niall, having a crush on a boy who turns out not to be as straight as he seemed. “He’s not into me, it’s just that we… we’ve been friendly with each other, recently, so it may be why he doesn’t look at me with as much hatred as he used to.”

“Friendly? You and Snow…”

“Snow and you.”

“Fuck you. _You and Snow_ are on your way to become friends and you haven’t told us? When we told you to talk about him less, we meant ‘stop complaining all the fucking time’, not ‘don’t tell us when there’s a significant change in your relationship’. Are we still your best mates or what? That’s the kind of stuff you’re supposed to tell us.”

“I was going to tell you about it, I just wanted to wait for the right time. It’s still very new, and I didn’t want to tell you before I was sure he wasn’t going to go back to hating me. Telling you, it would have made it more real, you know?” Crowley, I’m saying ‘you know?’ when I talk, Snow is rubbing out on me. “Which would have made it hurt more if he decided I wasn’t worth his friendship and I then had to tell you that it was over.”

“Well, of course you’re not worth his friendship, you’re a prick, you shouldn’t have friends to begin with, but it hasn’t stopped him, has it? So I don’t think you should worry about that.”

“What Dev is trying to say,” Niall says, glaring at Dev. He isn’t a fan of the aggressive way Dev shows support. I don’t mind. I know he doesn’t mean the things he says. “is that you shouldn’t worry about Snow changing his mind. He knows who you are, how mean you can be, and yet he still befriended you. He wouldn’t have if he didn’t _really_ want to be friends with you.”

“Hey, don’t try to explain what I say,” Dev says, kicking the ball in Niall’s direction. 

Niall catches it before it can touch him, and throws it back at him, hard. Dev bends over when the ball hits his stomach, getting the wind knocked out of him

“Bastard,” he chokes out.

“You were asking for it.”

Merlin, I’m surrounded with children. 

**…**

**Baz**

We get back to Mummers after that, Dev whining that his stomach hurts and that he wants to lie down. When Niall goes to lie next to him, Dev pushes him away, turning his head dramatically. “Go away, betrayer. You’re the one who hurt me.” 

“Oh, love I’m sorry,” Niall says, teasing, as he leans down so that his face is just over Dev’s stomach. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

“I think that might help,” Dev smirks.

Crowley, they have no shame. Sometimes I think they forget that I’m here, even when they’re the ones inviting me. Or they just don’t care. They probably don’t care. 

I’m afraid someday they’re going to start shagging in front of me, honestly.

Niall pushes Dev’s shirt up, pressing his lips to his stomach. I pretend to gag.

The only response I get is Dev’s middle finger.

“You two will fuck later, Merlin. I’d have gone back to my own room if I knew you’d be gross.”

“Why, so that you could be with _Simon_?” My cousin says, his voice exaggeratedly sweet when he says Snow’s name. “Do you think you could get him to kiss it better if we hurt you? If so, I volunteer to punch you.”

“No one’s punching me. As surprising as it may sound, I actually want to spend time with you two, if you stop the foreplay now and actually talk to me.”

“You really haven’t had much action if you think this,” Niall says, kissing Dev’s stomach again for emphasis. “is foreplay.”

“You know I haven’t had _any_ action at all, you fucker.”

“Sucks for you.” He pushes himself back up, kicking Dev’s legs until he moves them enough for Niall to sit. 

“So you’re staying with us then? Isn’t your dear Chosen One going to miss you?” Dev smirks.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with the two of you. You’re the worst people I know.”

**…**

**Simon**

Baz doesn’t come back to the room after dinner. I’m a bit disappointed, honestly. I got my history assignment back today and I was really excited to show it to him. After all, he lost sleep over that thing too, he should know how it went.

But I can’t really be mad at him for going somewhere else. He was barely ever in the room last year, and all the years before that, it wouldn’t make sense for him to be here all the time now just because we’ve become friends. 

Friends.

It’s still so strange to me to think that I’m friends with Basilton Grimm-Pitch. In a good way, but strange nonetheless. I didn’t think it would last this long. I didn’t think it’s last over _the weekend_ . No one can handle being with me all day long, even Penny get tired and needs space after a while. But not Baz. He stayed with me _all weekend_ , only leaving the room to go get us food. Well, get _me_ food, because he didn’t often eat it. I’m a bit worried about how little he eats. I’d ask him about it but he gets defensive when I try to talk about him eating, so I don’t. We talked a lot, but we also mostly did homework. It turns out that he actually wants to help me with my schoolwork, and that he really doesn’t mind doing so. He also does it better than Penny, no offense to her. He lets me take breaks, explain with simple words that I can understand, and repeats without losing his patience, no matter how many times I make him say the same thing or ask the same question over and over again. Penny is great, and I’m glad that she helped me all those years, but she just isn’t as good a teacher as Baz. I’m not going to tell her that, though. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

I hear a ringing noise. 

Baz’s phone. He left it on his bed when he left. 

He doesn’t bother dissimulating it anymore, now that he knows that I know he has it but won’t snitch on him. He’s been texting some times, probably his family since he can go see his friends. 

The first time it rings, I just let it. It’s not my business. But the thing is, whoever is calling him calls again, and again, and they also send a few texts, so I’m afraid it’s something serious. And if it’s something important, maybe I should check? What if it’s urgent? 

So, I cross the room, and sit on Baz’s bed. He’s got four missed calls, one from his father, two from his aunt Fiona, and one from someone called Daphne, and five text messages.

 **Father, 8:34 p.m.** : Please answer.

 **Father, 8:37 p.m**. : It’s important, Basilton. The Coven has taken a decision that concerns you. 

**Daphne, 8:39 p.m.** : Please Basil, call me or your father back as soon as you can. 

**Aunt Fi, 8:46 p.m.** : Why did you even buy that fucking phone if we can never contact you?

 **Aunt Fi, 8:50 p.m.** : Jesus Christ, Baz, if I don’t get an answer within an hour I’m fucking driving all the way to Watford.

Fuck. So it _is_ important. I have to go find Baz. I don’t even care if he gets mad that I looked at his phone. The messages are too worrying, I can’t just wait for him to come back. I put his phone in my pocket, and head to Dev and Niall’s room. It’s either that or the Catacombs, anyway, and if I check their room first, I won’t have to go down there. 

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t remember what we were saying when Dev’s phone rang. I just remember the confused look on his face when he said “It’s your father.” before answering. 

“Hello? Uncle Malcolm?”

He rests his phone on the bed, and puts my father on speaker so that Niall and I can hear what he says.

“Dev, hello. Do you know where Baz is?”

“He’s with me, why?”

“There’s something I have to talk to him about. Could you pass him the phone?”

“You’re on speaker, you can talk to him.”

“Father? What is it?” I say right after, almost interrupting Dev.

My Father _never_ calls me. He either tells Fiona things and she calls me, or he sends me a text message. This is highly unusual, and the fact that he even resorted to calling Dev is worrying me. What the fuck happen? I hope Daphne and the girls are fine. 

“Basil, thank magic. I called you but you didn’t answer. I had a Coven meeting today, they’ve made some decisions that I don’t necessarily agree with that concern you.”

I tense. I think I know where this is going. It’s not like there aren’t many things about me the Coven could make decisions about that would upset my father so much he'd call me right away. Niall and Dev have a worried look on their faces.

“What decisions?”

“They want Dr Wellbelove to examine you. They think that after what happened with Miss Hale, it’s time for them to know if you were Turned when the vampires attacked Watford. They wouldn’t listen to me, they simply told me I had to tell you the Coven requires an audience with you on Friday. They’ll send someone to take you to London in the afternoon. They assured me that no matter what the results Dr Wellbelove would give them, you wouldn’t be cast out, for it’s being away from our world that caused Emmeline Hale to be vulnerable enough for Snow and the Mage to attack her, but that they might have to reconsider your going to Watford.”

Here it is.

My vampirism isn’t _exactly_ a secret for the Coven. I’m pretty sure the majority of them have their doubts, since I survived the Watford vampire attack, seemingly unharmed, despite the fact that I was only a tiny child, but they never really cared to find out if I really was. I’m a Pitch. No one would dare accuse a Pitch of anything.

I suppose that now they _do_ care to find out.

I feel Niall’s hand on my shoulder. I didn’t even notice he’d come next to me.

“But why did they decide this now? It’s been almost two weeks since Emmeline Hale died.”

“It’s only the second meeting we have since it happened, and the first time, we focused on her murder.”

So it makes sense that they’d only decide this now, even though it doesn’t make any sense that they’d decide this in the first place. It’s been 13 years since I was Turned. What’s the point of stopping to ignore it _now_?

“And do you believe them? Do you believe they really won’t cast me out?” I ask, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat.

If I don’t have my magic, I have nothing. If I’m not magic, I _am_ nothing.

It takes my father a few seconds when he does, but when he does, it’s firmly and with assurance in his voice. “I will not let them. You’re not harming anyone, you never have. I don’t care what means I have to use. You’re a good man, Basil, I won’t let them force you to leave your world for something you had no choice over. You don’t deserve that treatment.”

He sounds so sure of this, I feel my eyes prickling. It’s probably the closest thing I’ll ever get to an ‘I love you’ from my father.

“Thank you, Father,” I tell him, trying to control my voice not to let any emotion show. 

He hums. “I think you should get some rest, on Friday, before they come for you. Don’t go to your classes, and take some time to prepare yourself, okay? Make sure you’re well fed and hydrated, it’ll be draining.”

The not so subtle allusion to my _feeding_ makes me shiver. Someone who wouldn’t know about my condition wouldn’t see anything wrong with my father’s sentence, but I know it has a double meaning. Niall must know too, because his hand squeezes my shoulder. He’s aware that my father prefers ignoring my vampirism, and that if he doesn’t, it’s that things are really serious.

And eight fucking snakes, they _are_ serious.

“I will.”

“Good. Now, your mother would like to have a word with you…”

“But it’s okay if you don’t want to talk now!” I hear Daphne’s voice faintly. She must be in the same room as Father, but not on speaker. I can almost see them, sitting on the sofa in the blue lounge where they usually spend their evenings, Daphne’s hand holding Father’s, a comfort to both him and herself. 

“It’s fine, Daphne,” I say. “I’m listening.”

I hear Father pass her the phone, and then, footsteps. It’s only after I hear a door open, and another one close, that Daphne speaks. “I’ve been so worried ever since your Father told me about the Coven’s decision,” she admits. “As you must also be, which is why I won’t tell you not to worry, but please, trust your Father’s words. He’s had time to calm down before he called you, but he was furious at the Coven when he came home, he will not let them ostracize you. I know that Malcolm has not handled your… vampirism well, and that he may have made you see this part of yourself in a negative light, but it doesn’t mean he won’t fight for you. You’re his son, vampire or not.”

This time I can’t control it. A choked sound, something like a sob, escapes my lips.

“That’s all. I’m going to hang up, now, okay?” Daphne says softly. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you on Friday.”

And then the call ends.

There’s a long moment of silence after that. All I can focus on is the phone, still on Dev’s bed, and on Niall’s hand, that is now rubbing circles on my back.

“Are you okay?” I hear Dev say, his voice devoid of its usual unkindness.

I’m pretty sure Niall glares at him over my shoulder.

“No. No I’m not,” I say honestly. There’s no point in lying to them. “The Coven is going to know that I’m a vampire in two days. By the end of the weekend, the entire World of Mages will most likely know that I’m a vampire. I might be expelled. So no, I’m not fucking okay.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I should say,” he whispers.

“Just… Don’t say anything. Either of you. There’s nothing you could say that could make this damn situation any better.”

But apparently, there’s something that could make it _worse_ , I think as I hear knocking on the door. I can already perceive that telltale smell of smoke.

Snow.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon comforts Baz and find out why his family called

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote an,,, interesting chapter today, i can’t wait to post it ^^

**Simon**

“Is Baz here?” I ask Dev when he opens the door.

“Why are you looking for him?”

“His family is trying to contact him,” I say, taking Baz’s phone out of my pocket to show Dev the notifications on the screen. “It seems urgent, and I didn’t know when he’d come back, so I thought I’d find him instead of waiting.”

I see Dev’s eyes travel across the screen, reading the messages, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“Hm, wait here.” 

He snatches Baz’s phone from my hand, and gets back inside the room, closing the door behind him. He opens it again not long after. “You can come in.”

When I do, I see Baz sitting with Niall, his phone on his lap. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, but there’s no way he’s had time to call someone in between the moment Dev took the phone and now, so I don’t understand why. 

He turns at me, and holy shit he looks so much worse now that he’s facing me. What’s wrong with him?

“You looked through my phone,” he says in a matter-of-fact voice, not expressing anything, neither annoyance nor surprise. I think I’d prefer it if he got mad at me.

“I looked at the messages you received. It was in the room, and it was ringing a lot. I’m sorry if it was inappropriate, but I still think it was the right thing to do. Your family seems worried, you should call them.”

“I have. I just had my father on the phone.” 

He points at the phone on Dev’s bed with his chin as he says that. 

“Oh. Well, er, sorry for bothering you, then. I’ll… I’ll go.”

“Are you not going to ask what he told me?”

“It’s not any of my business, is it?” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

This whole situation is making me so uncomfortable. I feel like I’m on thin ice, the way I always was before when talking with Baz. I hate it. He looks like he’s in shock, like he isn’t connected to reality, like I am when my magic acts up. I hate that too.

Wait.

Before I can think about it, I rush to Baz’s side and take his hands in mine. I hear surprised noises from Dev and Niall, but I don’t care about that. All I care is about the way Baz’s eyes look less foggy the moment when they meet mine. 

“Baz. Basil,” I say, because I remember how strong -well, strong for Baz, subtle for anyone else- a reaction he got every time I called him that. “I’m not going to ask because it’s not my place to ask but whatever it is, I don’t want you to get too upset about it. You look like how I feel when my magic escapes. If I’m not allowed to turn into a miniature sun anymore, you’re not allowed to be in the same state as I am when I do. I know that it probably hurts, what your Father said, but you making yourself sick over it isn’t going to change anything.” I let go of one of his hands, the left one, to hold his knee, rubbing my thumb over it. I don’t know why, I just felt like it. He doesn’t kick me so I suppose that he doesn’t mind, or that he’s too lost in his own head to notice. I hope that it’s because he doesn’t mind. “What about we do some breathing like you made me do the other day, yeah?” 

I think he nods a little but if he does, it’s too slight for me to be sure. Anyhow, I start telling him the same things he told me when he was the one trying to calm me down, and watch him attentively as he follows my orders. I make him do a few rounds of breathing, until his eyes are looking into mine and not just vaguely staring into space.

The intensity of their grey colour takes my breath away.

“Better?” I ask him softly.

“Yes. Thanks. I’m still mad at you for looking through my phone.”

“I can live with that,” I shrug with a little smile. “Are you going to call your aunt? She sounds pissed off.”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it that bad? What your dad told you?”

Sadness washes over his face. I squeeze his hand absentmindedly. 

“Yes. Yes, it was. It’s quite possibly the worst thing that could happen to me,” he says, his voice low. 

I wish it was okay for me to hug him. I wish we had reached this point of our friendship. But we haven’t, and even if we had, I wouldn’t. I just _know_ my fucked up brain would think dirty things if I held Baz in my arms, and I don’t want to do that to him. Instead, I ask “Is there anything I can do?”

“I think the best thing you could do right now is leaving me alone.”

It stings a little bit, I’m not going to lie. But if it’s what Baz needs, I won’t be an arse about it.

“Okay,” I tell him as I stand up. I don’t let go of his hand just yet. “I’m going to go walk around the grounds for a while, if you want the room to yourself.”

“I’d like that.”

I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave him, not when he’s so obviously shaken. I don’t ever want to leave him.

“Fine, that’s what I’m doing then. See you later then.”

“See you,” he says, his voice still sounding so devoid of emotions. It makes a shiver run down my spine every time he speaks.

The feeling of his hand eventually freeing itself from my grip makes my chest hurt.

**…**

**Baz**

I want to grab his hand and ask him never to let go of it again.

But I’m a coward, and I don’t want to scare him, so I don’t. Instead, I watch him walk away from me, my heart aching for him, for his touch, for his presence.

When the door closes, it’s like everything falls apart.

I break down crying.

Niall and Dev are both on me in an instant. I had completely forgotten about them. I had forgotten about everything that wasn’t those terrible news and Simon Snow calming me down.

Niall hugs me from behind, his torso pressed against my back and his arms tight around my middle, whispering nonsense in my ear, as Dev stands between my legs, where Snow was kneeling only mere seconds ago, and wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me in. My face is buried in his chest, so close that I hear his heart beating. I’m probably going to make a mess of his shirt. To completely ruin it, I grab the back of it, holding on to Dev’s shirt for dear life.

One of his hands moves up to my hair, stroking it lightly. 

I didn’t expect that from Dev. Even in fifth year when I spent half of my nights crying in their room, he left all the comforting and hugging to Niall, and took care of distracting me afterwards.

It feels great, though. 

The way Niall is holding me feels great too, but it’s much more usual. Niall’s arms around me, his breath brushing against my neck, it’s something familiar.

I let myself go in their embrace, sobs making my shoulders shake as tears run freely down my cheeks.

Dev and Niall don’t say anything. I think that they understand that I need to just let all of those feelings out. They simply keep holding me, the warmth of their body and softness of their touches slowly helping me calm down. Once I’m breathing normally again and I’m no longer crying, I push Dev a little to make him understand that he can move away. 

As he does, Niall does too, but he doesn’t completely leave. One of his arms is slung around my lower back, keeping me close to him as he sits next to me.

Dev goes grab a box of tissues on Niall’s bed and tosses it to me. I catch it, and take one out.

“How are you feeling?” Niall asks softly as I blow my nose.

“I’m terrified.”

His fingers that are on my hip start drawing little circles there. “It should be okay. Your dad won’t let the Coven take your magic from you.”

“Yes but Watford? Despite his so-called inclusivity, the Mage never allowed vampires at Watford. I could very well get expelled.”

“You’re a Pitch, you pretty much own the school, those cowards would never dare kick you out.”

“I’m a Pitch, but the Pitches aren’t in charge of the school anymore, are they? It’s the Mage, and if they leave the decision up to that bastard, I should start packing my things now because I’m definitely moving back to Hampshire this weekend.”

“But why would they let the Mage decide, though? He’s in a complicated situation at the moment, with Emmeline Hale’s muder. I don’t think they’ll trust his judgment about anything, and especially about whether or not a _mage who’s been Turned_ can attend Watford or not.”

“I don’t know. The Coven isn’t exactly known to make the right decisions, are they?” I sigh. “Anyway, I’m going to go now. Snow’s been outside for a while now, and I do need to call Fiona before he comes back.”

“You sure? Do you want one of us to come with you?” Niall asks, concern clear in his voice.

“It’s okay, Niall. I’m pretty sure I can manage climbing up a few stairs on my own. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, gentlemen,” I tell them with a bow as I stand up.

“You’re going to class?” Dev asks, disbelieving. 

“Well, if I only have two days of class left, I’ll make the most of it.”

Joking about things usually makes them less terrible. Not this time.

“If I only had two days here I would _not_ be going to class,” Dev says as he changes the shirt I ruined with my tears. “I think I’d try fucking Niall in every corner of the school.”

Niall turns a lovely shade of pink at that, as Dev gives him a smirk. 

“Well, I don’t have anyone to shag, so I suppose my best option is still class. Good night.”

**…**

**Dev**

“He’s so full of shit.”

“What?” Niall asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Baz. There’s definitely _something_ between Snow and him. Why isn’t he telling us. Is he afraid we’re homophobic or what?” I say, making Niall scoff.

I take the shirt I just put on off, discarding it on the floor before dropping to my knees. It makes his cheeks turn even redder. I pry his legs apart, and settle in between them, one hand on his knee and the other reaching for his hand. I see that his eyes are already filling with lust. Merlin, he’s so easy to turn on. 

“I mean… you don’t kneel between someone’s legs like that when they’re just your _friend_ , do you?” 

I lean in to kiss his stomach, over his school shirt. It tastes faintly of sweat, which is much hotter than it has any right to be. I want him all sweaty, preferably underneath me.

Not now though. “I do believe that Snow and him aren’t fucking yet, but our little Chosen One definitely wants to,” I say, rubbing my cheek against Niall’s thigh, my nose grazing his crotch. He sucks in a breath.

“It’d be a pity if Baz left school without profiting off the fact that they share a room to shag him, don’t you think?”

I undo his fly, and tug his trousers and pants down a little bit. He squirms, seeking some kind of _contact_. Crowley he’s glorious. 

“Honestly love, I’d really like if you stopped talking about Baz shagging Snow and _you_ shagged _me_ instead,” he whines, rolling his hips and pulling my hair with the hand I’m not holding. “Please, Dev, I need you.”

I love it when he gets impatient. It’s so hot when he begs.

I smirk, looking at him through my eyelashes, push him down that he’s flat on his back, and lean down.

**…**

**Baz**

It takes Fiona very precisely 0.5 seconds to answer her phone. 

“You useless fucker why do you have a phone if you’re not going to answer it—”

“Hello, Aunt Fiona, I’m glad to be speaking to you too.”

“Don’t give me that attitude. Why didn’t you fucking call me before? I was five minutes away from driving to Watford.”

“Well, I was in Dev and Niall’s room, so I didn’t have my phone, and then I was on the phone with Father, and then I was _crying_ in Dev and Niall’s room, so I couldn’t call you back.”

At least that shuts her up. I love Fiona, but she has a tendency to yell before listening that is particularly irritating. I wonder if Mother was like that too or if she was calmer.

“So… Malcolm called you? And he told you?”

“Yes. Believe me, I was surprised to have Father on the phone.” 

“Fuck, I was too. It’s never good news when your father calls.”

“It wasn’t good news…” I sigh.

‘Not good news’ is a damn understatement in this situation. My family and I have worked on keeping my being a vampire hidden for so long for a reason, and now, it’s going to be exposed to the whole World of Mages. All my classmates -if I’m allowed to ever set foot in Watford again, I think bitterly- will know I’m a vampire. All those families who despise mine will know that the heir of Pitch is an undead creature. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Baz,” Fiona tells me, but I’m not sure she believes it herself.

“How so? Even if, with incredible luck, I’m not kicked out of Watford and they let me keep my wand, I’ll never be able to lead a normal life in the World of Mages after everyone will have heard of what I am. I’m a hunter, Fiona, but when they’ll know, I’ll become a prey.”

“That’s not going to happen. You’re a Pitch, Baz, vampire or not those bastards will fear you. They might even fear you more if they know you could end them without even having your wand. Not that you would need to because no one is snapping your fucking wand. You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m a vampire.”

“Because you were Turned against your will when you were a kid. The Coven is full of idiots but even them can’t blame you for this. If they do, throw your mother’s name in, to remind them that they’re condemning you for having suffered the thing she died trying to protect you from. That’ll shut them up.”

It’s so like Fiona to suggest something like that. She never talks about Mother’s death, but of course she would do it now when we can use it at our best advantage.

It makes me sick when I think of considering my mother’s death as a defense against the Coven, even if I know that it’s something that’ll get to them. Even the members who disagree the most with my family’s politics like Mitali Bunce admired Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s career and power. 

“Whatever. I called you. You know that I know. I’m going to hang up now.”

“Wait! I was wondering… I don’t think they will but… if you can’t…” Fiona hesitating? That’s unusual. I don’t like it. “If you can’t go back to Watford,” she eventually says. So that’s why she was so hesitant. “know that my door is always open for you boyo, okay? You don’t have to go back to the Manor.”

“I’ll remember. Bye, Aunt Fi.”

“Bye Baz. I love you.”

The call ends, but I stay staring at my phone for a solid minute. I love you? I think the last time my aunt told me she loved me, I was 10. She must be _really_ worried for my audience with the Coven.

I fucking hate this.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t know if I’ve given Baz enough time alone, but it’s freezing outside, even for me, and I honestly just want to be with him. He really freaked me out earlier. I wonder what it is that his Father told him, but if it has to do with the Coven, it can’t be good. 

I see light filtering through the door as I reach the top of Mummers. So Baz is here, and he hasn’t gone to bed yet. That’s good. 

He’s sitting on his bed when I walk him, in his stupid posh pyjamas, and he seems to be doing homework. It’s so mundane, it scares me more than if he was crying or breaking things. Baz isn’t like me, he doesn’t not think about things because they’re upsetting. If he’s doing it, it must be because it’s _really_ upsetting.

“Hey,” I tell him, standing a bit awkwardly in between our two beds. I don’t know if I should climb in his and try to make him talk, or give him space. I normally have a rule about not going on Baz’s bed once it’s dark outside and he’s in his night clothes, but today is an exception.

If he needs me, I’ll be here for him, even if it makes my sick thoughts about him even worse. I still haven’t told him about those, but after thinking about it some more, I think I shouldn’t. It’s not like me telling him I have the hots for him is going to make him me. It’ll most likely make things awkward between us and ruin our friendship, and I can’t have that. Calling Baz Pitch my friend is my greatest achievement this year so far.

“Hey,” he answers, looking up from his work -Political Science, according to the colour of his notebook. Purple is for Political Science. He has a whole system like that, with specific colours for each of his subjects.

I just have the same few notebooks and a lot of random sheets of paper.

“How are you, now?”

“A bit better.”

“Can you tell me what your dad said?”

He doesn’t seem surprised. I think he was expecting the question. He knows I’m curious. I’ve watched -though he’d say _stalked-_ him for years.

“I thought you said it wasn’t any of your business,” he says with a smirk, because he’s irritating like that.

I go sit on his bed. He doesn’t push me away.

“You were clearly distraught in Dev and Niall’s room. I didn’t want to make it worse by asking about it. But I’d like to know, if it’s okay with you.”

He seems to consider it for a few seconds, and then he puts his schoolwork away on his desk, changing positions to sit hugging his knees. It makes him look small. Vulnerable.

“The Coven wants to know whether or not I was Turned when the vampires attacked Watford.”

What the fuck.

“What? But why?”

“Same reason as you, I suppose. To prove that I’m a monster,” he sneers, but I can hear the hurt in his voice.

“You’re not a monster. I was wrong trying so hard to prove that you’re a vampire, all those years. And the Coven is wrong to try to prove it now. Why now, anyway?”

“Because of Emmeline Hale. They’ve been reminded that mages Turned against their will are a thing, and I suppose they’re going on a witch hunt. According to my Father, they don’t want to cast me out of the World of Mages, but there is still a chance they might. And even if they don’t, there’s still Watford. Vampires aren’t welcome here. You might finally have the room all to yourself soon, Snow.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want you to leave Watford. I don’t want the Coven to cause you trouble.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t want any of that either, but thanks to the fucking Mage’s hatred of vampires, I’m having an audience with the Coven in two days that’ll pretty much decide of my future as a mage.”

He doesn’t even sound angry when he says it. Just sad. So very sad. And resigned.

I love magic more than anyone else. But that doesn’t mean others don’t. And Baz fucking breathes and lives magic. I don’t know what he’d do without it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about a world where Baz Pitch is living like a Normal because his wand was snapped and he was struck from the books.

I don’t want to think about a world where I don’t wake up to the pretty picture that is Baz Pitch sleeping in the room we share. _Our_ room.

I don’t want to think about a world he isn’t part of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the deniall scene in the middle is completely random, i just wrote it because i wanted a break from writing sad baz. it was supposed to be just for myself, but i decided to include it anyway


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz’s situation is worse than he initially thought  
> The boys watch Pride and Prejudice because WHY NOT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe i shouldn’t be posting that now since i haven’t written two chapters yet today, but i’m excited about this one so here we are

**Baz**

Thursday happens in a blur.

I go to my classes, but I’m not paying attention to anything the teachers are saying. I don’t even bother to pretend I’m taking notes. I stay with Dev and Niall because they’re worried for me, but I don’t talk to them. I don’t listen when they speak to me. I go to the meals because they insist, but I don’t eat anything. 

Everything is just a succession of pictures and sounds with no real meaning to me, until I see fire in front of my eyes and the dining hall falls silent. 

Everyone knows what fire messages are. Everyone knows how serious they are, especially when they’re fucking  _ red _ . 

Everyone knows receiving one is the worst thing that could happen to you.

And since I’m the least lucky bloke in the entire fucking universe, I get mine at dinner.

I feel too many gazes on me as I take the hot piece of paper in between my fingers and read it. 

_ “Mr Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch _

_ The Coven requests your presence to the High Court on this Friday, October 7th. An envoy will be sent to you at 3:00 p.m.. Your absence will be considered a refusal to comply, which will result in a serious sanction.” _

“The High Court,” I say under my breath, horror dripping from my voice.

Father never said it would be the High Court. He talked about Dr Wellbelove, and the Coven.

He never fucking mentioned the High Court.

He never said they were putting me on trial.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m eating dinner, catching a glimpse of Baz every so often. He isn’t eating, but that’s not particularly shocking. The thing is he isn’t moving either. Nor talking to his friends. He’s just… there. I’m not even sure he’s really there. His body is, for sure, but his mind… I don’t think so.

Suddenly I see fire right in front of his face. A ball of fire about the size of my fist materializing just like that. It’s not even his fire ; the fire he makes is different, more orange. Those flames are an unnatural bright red shade.

They’re quickly gone, replaced by a piece of paper the size of a postcard that Baz catches before it can hit the table.

I turn at Penny and see that she’s looking at Baz, eyes wide. Crowley, for Penny to have a reaction like that, whatever just happened must be a big deal. Even Agatha is staring.

“What the hell was that,” I ask, looking back and forth between my and Baz’s table.

“A fire message,” Penny answers in her quoting voice. “This is how the Coven communicates. The colour of the fire indicates the reason for which the message was sent.”

“And what does red means?”

“That Basil is in trouble. Red is the colour the members of the High Court wear during trials, so it was chosen as the colour of the messages sent to people who are the defendant in a trial.”

“So… They’re putting Baz on trial?”

I can’t believe this. I can’t believe he  _ lied  _ to me about something so serious. He told me they wanted to know whether he was a vampire or not, not that he would be  _ judged  _ for it.

Suddenly I’m not so sure they’re not going to snap his wand.

“They’re putting Baz on trial,” Penny confirms, visibly uncomfortable. “Would you happen to know why?”

“I have no idea.” Penny can probably tell that I’m lying, but I don’t care. All I care about right now is Baz. Baz who dropped the paper on the table, looking even paler than he usually does, which I honestly didn’t think was possible, and just stood up, almost knocking down his chair.

I’m up in an instant too when I see him rush out of the dining hall.

I glance at Niall and Dev, and the former tilts his head, as if to tell me to go. So I do.

I follow Baz out of the room, but he’s faster than I am -long legs or vampirism, I’m not exactly sure why, but either way, it’s irritating.

“Baz! Baz stops.”

“Leave me alone, Snow,” he answers without turning around or stopping his motion. His voice is quivering.

If he really thinks I’m going to leave him alone, he’s bloody wrong. I never did before, I’m not going to start now. Leaving Baz Pitch alone is just not something I can do.

So I start running after him. He doesn’t run, which proves me that he doesn’t want me to go that much. If he wanted to get rid of me, he could just start sprinting and I’d have no way to reach him like I do now, my fingers circling his wrist firmly. His hand is trembling.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you alone,” I say, my eyes fixed on his. 

They usually remind me of the moon. Right now, they make me think of a storm, agitated and frightening.

“What’s wrong, Baz? What does that note or whatever it is that you received said?”

He shakes his head. “Not here. Let’s go back to the room.”

“Baz, you’re obviously not okay. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me now and go back to Mummers after?”

“No. I’m doing this in the room where no one can hear us, or I’m not doing it at all,” he decreeds as he starts walking again, dragging me along with him.

We cross all the distance between here and our room in a silence that’s killing me. I hate that Baz isn’t okay. I hate that he isn’t talking to me, even if he’s more delaying it than refusing to talk at all, thank Merlin. I hate the panic I can see in the way he behaves.

The moment he closes the door of our room, it’s like he falls apart. He slumps against the wall, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. His breathing is laboured, and his hands are shaking more and more every second. His lips are trembling too. He bites the bottom one, as if to stop them.

“Baz, it’s okay to cry.”

“I’m not going to cry,” he says, choking back a sob.

“Baz. Don’t hold it back. It’ll just be worse. If you need to cry, just bloody cry, I don’t give a fuck.”

Okay, maybe being aggressive isn’t the best way to go, but he’s such an arrogant arsehole at times. I don’t want him to let his stupid pride cause him to feel worse.

“I don’t want to cry!” he shouts the moment a first tear rolls down his cheek.

After that one, there’s no holding them back. They flow along the hard planes of his face, but he doesn’t move, except for his arms, that cross on his stomach as he hugs himself.

I let him cry. He needs to, and we’re not going to go anywhere if he’s crying his eyes out as we speak.

It’s a heartbreaking sight, really, Baz Pitch crying like that. I wish I knew what do to. I wish I knew how to soothe him. But I haven’t known him like  _ that  _ -vulnerable, open with his feelings, other than anger, in front of me- for long enough to know how to deal with him.

I suppose his friends thought I did know that since they let me follow Baz. 

Tentatively, I reach out and take his hands from his sides to hold them in mine. He looks at me through his tearfilled eyes, and I see something in them that I can’t quite place but that makes my heart do something funny in my chest.

I squeeze his hands, and then close my eyes.

My magic has never really listened to me before, not without great efforts and help, I’m not sure it will now, but I have to try. I’d rather see Baz drunk on my magic than crying like that.

So I focus. I don’t think about Baz’s tears or his quiet sobs. I think about our joined hands. I think about my magic as water, the palms of my hand, a dam holding it back. Now I have to think about how to let the water flow through that dam without just destroying it. I don’t want my magic to rush into Baz all at once, to overwhelm him. I just want it to be there, to make him feel good. I feel my magic pooling at my hands, making them warmer. I try to imagine a handle, that would only open a small hole in the dam. I don’t know if it’s something that can be done with real dams, but it doesn’t really matter. Here and now, for my magic, it works.

I feel it leave my body, slowly. The more goes, the less Baz’s hands shake against mine. Once they’re not shaking at all, I stop the flow -without making it retreat for all that- and I open my eyes. 

Baz’s are still full of tears, but they’re not flowing anymore. He has a peaceful look on his face, that looks wrong with the tear stains on his cheeks but that I relish nonetheless. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“I didn’t think it’d work that quickly to be honest,” I answer, rubbing the back of my neck. My hand still feels a little hot. “Both the making my magic meet yours and the calming you down with it.”

“Your magic feels wonderful. I… It felt different than last time, though. It was still like being injected raw power, but it also felt… warm. Comforting. Kind of like what a hug feels like. I think you magic understood that it was there to soothe me and not to act as a battery,” he chuckles. 

Blood rushes to my cheeks. My magic felt like a  _ hug _ . Does he understand that it’s because  _ I  _ want to be hugging him?

“Anyhow, I’m glad it helped.” 

Some of his hair has fallen on his face -it’s not slicked back quite as well after a whole day of running around- and I desperately want to push it back. To feel the silk of his hair, even under this stupid hair gel he insists on wearing.

Baz’s own hand moves and does exactly what I wish mine was doing. I look away.

Crowley Simon, control yourself. 

“Do you want to talk about it, now?” I ask, unsure, to focus on something that isn’t how fucking much I want to touch him. How fucking much I want  _ him.  _

“It’s nothing,” he says, running his hand through his hair. It messes it up a bit, but not nearly enough. I wish he’d just let it loose. His hair looks great when he goes to sleep and he doesn’t have any products in it. “It’s just not what I was expecting. My Father had told me that I’d be examined by Dr Wellbelove, and I had assumed that I’d have to meet the Coven, but I didn’t think it’d be at the High Court.”

“Sorry if it sounds stupid, but what exactly is the High Court? I know it’s bad news, and Penny has told me that it’s not often that the High Court is summoned for a case, but I don’t know anything else.”

Baz gulps, clearly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, I just want to  _ know.  _ I’ve been scared for him since he told me about the Coven wanting to meet with him, but now it’s apparently getting even worse.

“Let’s sit down and I’ll explain it all to you. You really need someone to tell you things about our world,” he says, heading to his bed. He lets himself fall on it, not very gracefully, leaving a lot of empty space for me. I join him. “Bunce seems to only give you superficial information, that’s not enough. No wonder you’re so confused all the time. But whatever, maybe there are things she described in more details. As for the High Court, it is, indeed, bad news. Especially when the message you receive is red.”

“Penny told me that it means you’re the defendant.”

“Yes. But the thing is you can only be the defendant against the High Court. The plaintiff is always them, even if the cases involve victims. “Them” being a council of mages made of all of the members of the Coven, who all get a vote when it’s time to judge a crime. They’re not summoned often because it’s a very archaic way to give a sentence. Usually, crimes are dealt with by three members of the Coven elected by the other members. The High Court only intervenes for the biggest, most serious cases. At this very moment, the entire school probably thinks I’ve raped or murdered someone.”

“But you haven’t done anything! It makes no sense that you’d be judged by them!”

“I know,” he says, and he sounds miserable. “I’m so fucking scared Snow. I… Yesterday I was afraid they might snap my wand. Now I fear they might not only snap my wand but also pull my fangs out and throw me in jail for the rest of my life.”

Baz has finally admitted to being a vampire. I can’t even feel satisfied about it. Instead I’m terrified. The Coven can’t do that to him. 

“Do you think… Do you think there’s anything I could do to help you? Can’t I testify or whatever, say that you’re not a threat? I mean, I’ve shared a room with you for years and you haven’t drained me yet, so. I could tell them you’re not dangerous. I’m the bloody Chosen One, my word must be fucking worth something, right?”

It’s driving me crazy, thinking about the Coven punishing Baz for his vampirism. When I think that I have tried to get him in trouble for it for years, I feel sick. I was wrong, I was so wrong.

All this time I hated Baz, I was wrong.

He puts his hand on my knee and that’s wrong too. I should be the one trying to comfort him, not the opposite, he’s the one whose future is in jeopardy. And yet I’m the idiot who’s getting angry.

“You’re the Chosen One, Snow. You’re meant to save the world, not open your mouth when you’re not asked to,” he says, a bittersweet tone to his voice. 

“I don’t care about saving the world if I can’t save you.”

He looks at me with those grey eyes I can’t stop thinking about full of a tenderness I’m pretty sure I’m imagining. 

I want to kiss him.

**…**

**Baz**

I want to kiss him.

The way he held my hands when he gave me his magic today, and yesterday, when he made me breath. The things he just said. The way he’s looking at me right now… It’s all too much.

I want to lean in and finally,  _ finally,  _ get a taste of Simon Snow’s lips on mine.

But I can’t do that.

If it’s my last room in this room with him, I’m not going to risk kissing him.

Because I couldn’t handle it if he rejected me, not now, when I could lose him.

Because I couldn’t handle it if he kissed me back, not now, when I could lose him.

So instead, I collapse on the bed, not to see those blue eyes and freckles anymore. He’s still here, and my body is still screaming at me to just fuck it and kiss him, but it’s easier to deal with if I can’t see his fucking face. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Snow. When you’re being judged by the High Court, you’re not allowed a lawyer or anyone who might defend you. It’s just you and the Coven. Which is another reason those kinds of trials are rarely ever held. It’s not fair, not to let someone build a strong defense. The people who face the High Court pretty much always know that they’re condemned before they’ve even stepped in the room. There were only two cases in the history of the Coven when the defendant walked out free of charge. The High Court... it’s not justice, it’s punishment.”

“They won’t punish you,” he says fiercely, leaning down to look at me. He’s practically on all fours, his hands on either side of my hips, and the fire in his eyes make me shiver.

Who knew Simon Snow would ever care so much about me.

“Just… Let’s not talk about that,” I sigh, because I don’t want to waste the evening discussing something pointless. I’d rather let Snow distract me, he’s good at that. “It isn’t going to change anything. The Coven members are the only ones who get a say in the decision that will be taken. I’d rather enjoy myself.”

I see him relax a little bit. He probably didn’t want to talk about the trial much either.

“How so?” he asks, pushing himself up until he’s sitting on his calves. Do you want to go with Dev and Niall? Or go play football? The drawbridge is closing soon but I’m sure you could spell it open.”

I just want to be with you, love.

“No, I think I’d rather stay here. How do you feel about watching a film?”

“A film?” he frowns. “How do you want us to watch a film here?”

“Do you really think my phone is the only forbidden thing I’ve taken along with me?” I say, raising one of my eyebrows, before bending over the edge of my bed to reach for my laptop, concealed under a spell. 

“Of course you have a bloody macbook,” he groans as I unspell it. “Rich prick.”

“Hey, be nice, it may be the last time we share a room. Put our mattresses on the floor instead of insulting me, will you? Those beds are too small for two people.”

I leave the bed, setting my laptop on my desk to look for a film while Snow does as I ask, though begrudgingly. “Why am I the one moving the mattresses, you’re stronger than me.”

“Because I told you to. Stop complaining.”

“What are we even watching?” he asks as he throws his blanket on mattresses. “Are you going to make me watch that chick flick you like? You know the one adapted from that Jane Austen book.”

I turn to him so quickly my neck cracks.

“You did  _ not  _ just call Pride and Prejudice a chick flick.”

He shrugs, the fucking idiot. “It’s got romance, it’s a chick flick.”

“Oh Merlin. You are so wrong. This,” I say, pointing at the screen where the film is loading. “is a masterpiece.”

Snow rolls his eyes as he sinks on his mattress, pushing both covers on my side of this makeshift bed. He’s always warm. “If you say so.”

“You’ll see for yourself. Here, take this.” I hand him my laptop, and he handles it carefully. He always does with pricey items. “Do you want snacks? We might as well empty my stash,” I say as I open the drawer in which I keep my food.

“Bring on the snacks, Basil. I claim the chocolate.”

“You won’t get all of my chocolate, I don’t like you enough for that.”

I collect all of the food I have left -three chocolate bars, and two bags of crisps- and go join Snow on the bed. I put the snacks between us, and then lie down before I take my laptop back. I wait for Snow to find a comfortable position too, and try very hard not to think about the fact that I’m in bed with Simon Snow, in a room only illuminated by moonlight and my computer screen. 

Once we’re both settled, I put the computer between us, and click play.

**…**

“Wait, that’s the main character? He’s ugly.”

“Don’t criticize Mr Darcy, you fool.”

**…**

“I don’t know much about Pride and Prejudice, but Lizzie is going to fall in love with him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well I don’t see why. He’s an arsehole.”

“Snow, we haven’t even seen half of the film. Just wait.”

**…**

“He’s  _ really  _ ugly.”

“ _ Snow _ .”

**…**

“Elizabeth is so great. I’m in love with her.”

“She is great.”

“And pretty.”

“And pretty.”

“Wait, weren’t you into blokes?”

“I’m gay, Snow, not blind. Keira Knightley is a beautiful woman.”

“Keira who?”

“Knightley. The actress who plays Lizzie. Your knowledge of pop culture is abysmal.”

“Shut up.”

**…**

“He’s hotter than Darcy.”

“Who, Wickham?”

“Yeah. Don’t you think so?”

“I must admit he’s attractive.”

“You like men in uniforms, Basil?”

“I think it’s the blonde hair more than the uniform.”

**...**

“That hand holding thing is the scene with the most sexual tension I’ve ever seen in a film.”

“That’s the beauty of it. They don’t need to show graphic sex to make the spectators see the desire Elizabeth and Mr Darcy have for each other. I wish more films in modern settings did that instead of making the characters fuck in the first ten minutes.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind if Lizzie and Darcy fucked though. Do they?”

“No they don’t.”

“Pity.”

“Wanted to see Keira Knightley’s breasts?”

“I can’t say I’d have been mad at it, mate.”

**…**

“Did he just insult her social status while confessing his love?”

“Yes.”

“What a fucking moron.”

**…**

“Baz please tell me they end up together. I can’t handle this. Lizzie looks miserable.”

“They end up together.”

“Thank fucking Merlin.”

**…**

**Simon**

Baz’s eyes are fixed on the screen. During most of the film, he is relaxed, glancing between me, the laptop, and the snacks, but when what I assume are his favourite scenes start, he focuses only on the film.

It’s cute, and it helps me know which scenes are important, which is nice.

So I pay attention to the scene too. Lizzie is on a field, under the rain, and Darcy is walking towards her.

“Oh my god, is he going to propose again?” I ask, nudging Baz’s arm.

He shushes me. “You’ll see if you shut up and watch.”

So I shut up and watch.

Darcy walks to Lizzie, and they start talking. They look at each other like there’s nothing or no one else in the entire world they’d rather be looking at. 

There’s a silence and I catch a glimpse of Baz, right when Darcy resumes speaking. 

Except I’m not paying attention to the way Darcy says the words. I’m paying attention to the way  _ Baz  _ does. All throughout the film, he’s whispered some lines along with the characters, probably because he liked them a lot, which is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen him doing, but now it doesn’t feel quite the same, for some reason.

“If,” Darcy and Baz are saying. “However your feelings have changed, I would have to tell you. You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love, I love… I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

He must feel my eyes on him, because the moment he’s done speaking, he turns at me. 

When our eyes meet, I feel an overwhelming wave of feelings hitting me, something warm and pleasant but terrifying at the same time. Something that takes my breath away and makes my head spin.

Something like…

**…**

**Baz**

Love. 

That’s all I can feel as I stare into Snow’s eyes, Elizabeth Bennet kissing Mr Darcy’s hand on my computer screen.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the day of Baz’s trial, before he has to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a PAIN to write. i had the end in mind, but my brain just didn’t want to make up a beginning that made sense. i started over three times and then i eventually went with this

**Simon**

When I wake up, Baz isn’t in the room. Disappointment makes my heart clench in my chest. He’s always up after me, I assumed it would be the same thing today and I’d get to see him in the morning, before I had to leave for class, but he has deserted the room.

I hope I’ll be able to meet him before he leaves for his trial. I can’t just let Baz Pitch go without saying goodbye, right?

Penny and I never say goodbye. She doesn’t like goodbyes, and she thinks it’s bad luck. So maybe I should not say goodbye to Baz, even if I do see him. Either way, I need to see him. I don’t want the last fucking thing I told him to be ‘Good night’, especially considering that our last interaction was this weird, awkward silence as we finished the film.

I just can’t let him go that easily. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Hello, Mother. Yes, I’m back here quickly, I know, but I really needed to talk to you now. I may not ever be able to do so again, at least not here at Watford. I have been summoned by the High Court, Mother. They want to know if I’m a vampire. I’m terrified about what they’ll do to me when they’ll know. Father thinks he’ll be able to protect me from them, but I don’t think even Father knows it’s the High Court that’s dealing with my case. I haven’t told him, so unless he heard it from another Coven member, he doesn’t know. Ironically, the entire student body of Watford knows. I received my summons in the  _ dining hall _ . Seeing those red flames and feeling everyone’s gaze on me was probably one of the worst moments of my life. I was so ashamed, and then, I read the note, and I was so scared. I can’t bear the thought of not going back to Watford. It’s not great here, but it’s the closest thing I have to a home. Because you’re here, because I used to spend time with you here. Because Snow is here. I knew that there would be a time when Simon Snow and I would part ways, but now it may be imminent and I hate it. And if only being expelled was my only fear… They could cast me out of our world, Mother. Or worse. I don’t think they’d execute me, but they  _ could _ . I’m not sure they’ll still consider me a person when they’ll know I’m a vampire. I’m not sure I consider  _ myself  _ a person knowing I’m a vampire, so really, I couldn’t blame them. But I’m only 18… I don’t want to die just yet. Life hasn’t been kind to me so far, but I want to believe things will get better. I can’t be killed before they  _ can _ get better. I just… I want a happy ending, Mother. And I don’t want the Coven to ruin my chances of ever getting one.

**…**

**Dev**

Loud knocking on the door wakes me up.

“Niall go open,” I groan against his shoulder, but the bastard is still sound asleep. He could sleep through a storm.

Reluctantly, I roll out of bed, pushing Niall away from me. He always sleeps half on top of me, says I’m comfy, and it’s really a pain when I have to get out of bed before him like now. Even being tossed around like that doesn’t wake him up. I walk to the door, and open it to, unsurprisingly, reveal Baz. I tease him because Niall and I are his only friends, but the truth is, I don’t have many friends either, so it’s not hard guessing who would show up here at the ungodly hour of  _ 6 in the morning. _

I can tell he’s anxious the moment my eyes fall on him. He’s fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, and his eyes don’t quite fix on anything. “Come in. Be quiet, Niall’s sleeping,” I whisper to him, opening the door wider.

He rushes to Niall’s bed -we sleep on mine- and sits there, his legs crossed like a child. His fingers are still twisting his sleeve. I go sit with him, patting his shoulder awkwardly. “It’ll be okay, Baz.” I’m shit at comforting people. That’s Niall’s thing, not mine. But he’s asleep and I don’t want Baz to think I don’t care about what he’s going through. I make lots of jokes, but in the end, I really do care about that fucker. It’s killing me that the bloody High Court is putting him in trial. “You’ll defend yourself, you’re good at that. You’ve done nothing wrong, they can’t punish you too severely. I… I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure they’ll let you come back at Watford, half of them have children or grandchildren currently at school and they’re all so paranoid, but they won’t strike you from the books. They won’t take your magic from you. You’re a fucking Pitch, snapping your wand is probably a bigger offense in their eyes than you existing as a vampire. Fuck mate, use your fucking last name. If  _ my  _ last name was  _ Pitch  _ and I was being put on trial, you can bet I’d mention it in every fucking sentence. The Old Families admire your line and would do anything to have a Pitch in charge again instead of that lunatic, and even those who align more with the Mage’s ideas respect the Pitches’ power. Use that. Remind them it’s  _ the heir of Pitch  _ they’re dealing with.”

He sighs shakily. “That’s what Fiona said too. Well, she said to drop my mother’s name which is even worse, but yeah, the common ground is that she also thinks I should use my family name to win the Coven.”

“Because it’s the best thing to do. You don’t win against those people with  _ arguments  _ Baz.”

“I know… But I don’t want them to let me walk free  _ just  _ because I’m a Pitch. And you know, I’m not even sure that’ll be enough. A lot of them respect the Pitches, but some of the Coven member fucking  _ hate  _ us. I have to have  _ something  _ other than my family name to defend myself and I have nothing.”

“You have the truth. You’ve never bitten a person, have you? Tell them that.”

“What if they don’t believe me? I’m alone, my only defense is my word, if they think I’m lying, I’m screwed,” he says, burying his face in his hands. 

I rub circles between his shoulders. That’s what Niall does when he’s trying to comfort Baz.

“I don’t really know what to tell you, to be frank.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Just let me freak out and then I’ll be fine,” he says with a breathy laugh. 

He shakes his head, and lets one of his hands fall back against his body, while the other goes up to his mouth. He starts biting at the skin around the nail of his thumb.

“You’re so full of shit,” I say, making him shoot me a surprised glance. “If you just wanted to freak out on your own you wouldn’t have come here. So what is it? You wanted to talk to Niall, right? Well, unfortunately you’re stuck with me until he wakes up, so if you…”

He stops me in my tracks when he throws himself at me. He crushes me against his chest, so hard I can barely breathe, pressing his head in the crook of my neck. It’s most definitely the closest we’ve ever been ; Baz and I don’t hug, except in situations like now when he really need it. I don’t hug anyone except Niall, really, and even with him, it took me a while to get to the point where I was comfortable snuggling with him whenever he pleases. I’m a bit tense at first, but eventually, I put my arms around Baz too as I relax against him. “Hey, Baz, it’s okay. It’s okay,” I tell him softly as I feel something wet pooling on my shoulders. Tears. “You can cry Baz, it’s okay.” 

“All I do is cry,” he answers, irritation in his voice.

“I’d say it’s justified. It’s scary, what you’re going through. I know that you haven’t been told that a lot, but it’s okay to cry, Baz. It doesn’t mean that you’re weak. It just means you’re human.”

I move one of my hands up his back until it’s in his hair. He likes having his hair played with, I know that because back in fifth year, when he was really down about… everything, he’d lie down with his head on Niall’s lap and he always seemed to feel better when Niall started running his hands through his hair. 

He lets out a pleased sigh.

I’m handling that whole comforting Baz thing much better than I thought I would. 

“You know, Dev, if they… if they cast me out…”

“They won’t.” 

“ _ If  _ they cast me out,” he says again, putting emphasis on ‘if’. “I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to be in contact with anyone from our world, even family. If it comes to this… I want you to know that I’m glad for your presence in my life. I know we don’t say those things, not in this bloody family, but I like you, Dev, a lot. I’m happy for you, that you found Niall. You two are great for each other.” I feel him laugh, something bitter that vibrates against my skin. “See, that’s the kind of sentimental bullshit I would have said at your wedding, but since I can’t be sure I’ll  _ be _ at your wedding… At least I’ve told you.”

“Don’t say that.” I smack his back. “You  _ will  _ be at our wedding and you will say all of that sentimental bullshit again, with an audience. I need a best man Basilton, you can’t just let me down like that.”

A strange sound escapes his lips, something halfway between a laugh and a sob as he tightens his arms around me. Thank Merlin he’s controlling his strength, he would probably have broken my bones otherwise. “But… I care about you too. And if the Coven makes a stupid decision… We won’t let them make a stupid decision. We don’t have the influence of the Pitches, but the family  _ will  _ be pissed if Malcolm’s kid is threatened. And your dad said he wouldn’t let them. Your aunt Fiona, that crazy bitch, she will burn the fucking High Court down if they harm you. And then… there’s Snow. You really think he’ll just stand by as the High Court ruins your life?”

I’m still not sure what exactly Snow’s and Baz’s relationship is, but I know that no matter what, Snow would try to protect Baz. Even when they hated each other, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt Baz, except himself. 

Baz tenses when I mention Snow. “He wanted to testify, to tell the High Court I’m not a threat. He can’t, of course, but he told me he would.”

“See? The little Chosen One won’t let the Coven have the privilege of being detrimental to you. That’s his job. You’ll be fine, Baz. You’ll keep your wand, and your fangs, and maybe even your room at Watford. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

It’s a foolish thing to say, I’m aware of it. A promise on something you can’t control, it’s only good to comfort children. I guess we can be children a little longer, then. It hurts too much to be adults.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t see Baz all morning, but I don’t see Dev and Niall either, so I suppose he’s with them. I wish I was the one who was with him, but it’s good that he’s with his friends. He doesn’t deserve to be all alone before his trial.

His trial…

I feel anger course through me every time I think about it. It’s so fucking unfair they’re putting him on trial. 

And it’s my fault. It’s because of my mission, because of my inability to stop the Mage from killing Emmeline Hale that the Coven is suddenly concerned about the fact that Baz is a vampire.

If anything happens to him I’ll never forgive myself.

**…**

He eventually comes back to the room, a little bit after lunchtime is over. I was expecting him to, which is why I’m at Mummers and not hanging out with Penny. I want to see him before he leaves. I  _ need  _ to see him before he leaves.

He seems surprised when his eyes fall on me. 

Was he really thinking I’d let him go like that? And here I thought he had common sense.

“Hello,” I tell him with a smile. 

“Hello, Snow. What are you doing here? Class starts in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m not going to class this afternoon. I’m staying with you.”

“Are you now?” he asks, raising one of his eyebrows before walking towards his wardrobe. 

“Yes. We haven’t had time to talk about the film when we finished it yesterday. I think we should do that now.”

While we still can.

**…**

**Baz**

Merlin, he isn’t trying to get me to talk about the trial. I love him so much.

I said everything I had to say about it to Dev and Niall this morning. Now I need to change my mind or I’ll go mad before the Coven envoy even arrives. I’m glad Snow assumed I’d want or need a distraction. 

I walk to his bed. “That’s true. I didn’t question you about it, that’s a pity. Make room for me,” I say as I yank his legs, moving them to sit where they were. “Have you changed your mind about it being a ‘chick flick’? Because if you have not I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. But yes, I’ve changed my mind. That film was so good! I’m not really into romance stuff usually and some parts were kind of boring to me, but it was great. I’d probably rewatch it. But tell me, why do you like it so much? You said it was one of your favourite books and your favourite film, and I’m sure you’ve read tons of books and seen even more films, so why this one? Is it the story? The characters? What’s so special about it?” he asks, cocking his head.

_ ‘What’s so special about it?’ _

It’s how I fantasize our relationship, love, that’s what’s so special about it.

“I really like the story. Elizabeth and Darcy’s romance is so beautiful to me. At first she hated him, because she only saw what he wanted to show. She had all this… prejudice against him, which wasn’t completely unfounded, of course, Darcy does have his flaws, and not everything Lizzie thought about him after she met him was wrong, but parts of it were still wrong, and she slowly came to know that. To know  _ him _ , who he really was, when appearances weren’t needed and his walls were down. She was so convinced he was a bad person, but once she scratched beneath the surface, she saw that he was not. That deep down, he had a good heart. That he was someone she could love.”

He seems to think about my words, his eyebrows furrowing a little bit like they do when he’s really focusing on something. It’s adorable. Then, he says “You identify with Darcy, don’t you? He’s a bit like you.”

I’m pretty sure my cheek would be burning if I could blush. Bless my vampirism. It might get me killed, but at least it saves me from making a fool of myself in front of Simon Snow.

“I do, yes,” I say honestly. 

Snow gives me a smile that makes my heart pound in my chest.

“I hope you find your Lizzie, then. Well, a male version of Lizzie, I guess, but yeah,” he says, before blushing furiously. “Speaking of,” he adds in a hurry, looking sheepish. “I… There’s something I wanted to ask you. It’s a bit personal, and I understand if you don’t want to answer, but just in case, I thought I could still try asking…” 

Crowley, has he understood that I love him? Snow’s thick, but I haven’t exactly been subtle about my feelings recently. 

“Go on, ask.”

His cheeks turn red. “How did you know you were gay?”

“How did you know you were straight?” I shoot back. 

I can’t really tell him that it’s because I started thinking about kissing him, can I?

“Well that’s the thing,” he forces a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Merlin and Morgana. Is he…? “I’m not sure I’m straight. I’ve never really thought about it you know. I was dating Agatha, and I never looked at blokes thinking ‘wow he’s hot’ so I guess I assumed I was staight but I’m not so sure anymore and you’re the only gay bloke I’m relatively close to, so… I thought I’d ask you.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him looking this embarrassed. I mean, I suppose I would be too if I was asking my gay roommate whom I’ve only recently become friends with how to figure out whether you’re gay or not. 

“Hey, Snow, don’t look so embarrassed,” I tell him softly. “Sorry for reacting the way I did. I didn’t think you were questioning your sexuality. There’s nothing wrong with that, by the way. It’s perfectly fine to question this kind of things, even if you turn out to be straight. Now, what is it that made you think you might not be as straight as you initially thought?”

“Well,” he clears his throat. “There’s this one bloke. He’s been on my mind a lot lately, but not in the way I sometimes think about my friends throughout the day, you know? It’s more…” He frowns, struggling to find the right word. After a few seconds, he gives his knee an irritated punch and continues. “It’s just  _ more _ . I… I think about kissing him, about how it would feel to wake up and see him here with me, I think about how good he looks and how I want… how I want  _ things  _ with him that I’ve never wanted with anyone else. When I was with Aggie, I thought about sex sometimes, but it was always something vague. I thought it’d be nice to fuck, but it didn’t go any further. I never imagined Agatha and I actually having sex. With this boy… Well, I’ve thought about it. I’ve had… dreams.  _ Graphic  _ dreams. And like, that’s gay, right? Straight people don’t dream about touching another bloke’s cock, do they? But the thing is I’m pretty sure I like girls. I mean I was attracted to Agatha, and I wanted her. I didn’t think about it, but if we had gotten in a situation where we would have had sex, I would have been more than happy to do so, and I find some girls pretty hot. And that’s also part of the problem because I don’t really find any boy attractive except for that one bloke. I’m just so confused,” he sighs, running his hand through those perfect curls of his.

I try not to let his words get to me, but I can’t. He likes a bloke.  _ One  _ bloke in particular. It’s even worse than knowing he’s straight, knowing that there is this one boy he wants. It gives me hope. Much more hope than if he was just straight.

I know I’m not that bloke, of course. Snow’s barely even started to tolerate me. But the fact that he can develop some sort of crush on a boy means I  _ could  _ be an option, in a world where life doesn’t hate me so much. 

“I’m not in your head, so I can’t tell you what that means or what you are, only you can know that,” I say with my ‘teacher voice’. It’s the only way I can refrain from letting my feelings show, to act like I’m just educating Snow on sexuality. “But it does seem like you’re not straight. As you said, straight boys don’t dream about this kind of things. It doesn’t mean that you’re gay, though. You know that there isn’t just gay and straight, right? Take Dev for example, he’s bi.”

“But isn’t he dating Niall?”

“He is, but that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly attracted only to men. He’s still attracted to women, he’s just in a relationship with a bloke. What you’re saying, it’s kind of like saying that when you’re dating someone, you don’t find anyone else attractive anymore. I’ve never been in a relationship, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

Because I’m hopelessly in love with you but I can still appreciate looking at other men. Preferably those who have dark blonde hair. And blue eyes.

**…**

**Simon**

Wait, that makes sense, actually.

When I was with Aggie, I didn’t stop thinking other girls looked good. She just looked  _ better _ . She was the one I was interested in, but I could still look at other girls and think they were attractive. So I suppose it’s the same thing when you like both. It’s not because you’re particularly interested in one specific bloke that you suddenly aren’t interested in women at all, and vice versa. 

“So… You think that it could be that? I’m into both men and women?”

I’m really not sure I’m into men though. Really it’s just  _ Baz _ . And I’ve never wanted a girl the way I want Baz either. But I can’t possibly say that to him. I’m pretty sure he’s caught up on the fact that he is the bloke I’m talking about, and if he hasn’t already, he will soon if I keep mentioning it.

“I told you, I can’t tell you that. All I can do is tell you that’s an option. Now you have to figure it out on your own.”

“Ugh, that’s so complicated,” I groan, leaning against the headboard of my bed. I rub a hand across my face. “I’m just… It’s just so confusing. I’ve never felt anything for boys and all of a sudden my stupid fucking brain decides to make me think things about a bloke and fucks up one of the things in my life I thought was a certainty.”

“I understand your frustration,” Baz says. I see him reaching out with his hand, probably to touch my knee, but he retreats at the last moment. Does he not want to touch me now that I might be gay too? Fuck I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want Baz to change the way he acts around me because I might not be straight.  _ I  _ didn’t change the way I act around him when I found out he was gay. “I’ve been there. I was fifteen, my life was already a big mess, and all of a sudden, I realized that I had these… thoughts about boys that I knew I wasn’t supposed to have. It was really not a great experience, I was very scared and ashamed, which caused me to take a rather long time to accept who I was. I suffered a lot from that, and I really hope you won’t have the same experience. Just… keep in mind that if you do like men, it’s not a bad thing, and it doesn’t change who you are. Whether or not you’re straight, you’re still a moron who trips over his own foot and says incredibly stupid things at least three times a day and stuffs his mouth whenever he’s given food.

That makes me feel a little better, and so much worse at the same time, because I think of a younger Baz, of  _ fifth year  _ Baz who was struggling with his sexuality and who had to deal with my stalking -I’m okay to admit it was stalking when it comes to fifth year- on top of that. It must have been such a rough year for him. I wish I could go back in time and try making friends with Baz from the beginning. 

“You know, technically I know that you’re insulting me, but it still sounds awfully tender, Basil,” I tell him with a smile. 

“I’m never tender, Snow,” he answers, his voice as cold as it gets.

It makes me laugh. I think it’s so funny now, when he tries to act all tough with me even though I know he’s not like that. I know he’s not just the arsehole he pretends to be, when you take the time to  _ scratch beneath the surface. _

“Yes you are. Sometimes. When you’re not busy being a prick.”

“I would lose all of my charm if I wasn’t a prick, Snow,” he says with one of those infuriating smirks that have always warmed my cheeks, though not for the same reasons now.

Yeah, he kind of would lose his charm if he wasn’t a prick.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow and I keep chatting, though about lighter topics, until I see that it’s 2:30. It’s time for me to change before I go wait for the Coven envoy at the drawbridge. I have absolutely no desire to do so. I want to stay there, sitting on Simon Snow’s bed, talking to him about futile things. But I can’t. I’ll just make things worse for myself, and I really don't need that. So reluctantly, I tell Snow that it’s time for me to get ready, and try not to let the sad and worried look on his face break my heart as I walk to the en suite, taking the suit I’ve chosen to wear. I take my uniform off and put it on, before fixing my hair. I tie it in a low ponytail -it looks more serious that way- and slick the top of my hair back with hair gel to make sure it doesn’t get messed up. 

I should have brought makeup to Watford, I have dark circles the size of a continent under my eyes, and the fact that I’m so naturally pale doesn’t help at all. 

I sigh. Looking like a sickly Victorian child isn’t going to get me anywhere in front of the High Court.

When I leave the en suite, I see that Snow is sitting on the exact same spot as before, his eyes fixed on the door I just opened. There’s a concerned line across his forehead. It’s killing to leave him behind. 

I really hope I’m going to be able to come back to Watford. This can’t be the last time I see Snow in the room we share. But in case it  _ is  _ the first time, I go sit next to him, grabbing one of the pens on his desk.

“Snow. I may not come back to Watford…”

“You will,” he snaps.

Why is everyone so convinced that things will be okay? Why am I the only one who doesn’t believe it?

“It’s a possibility, Snow. And if I don’t, I still want to help you with your mother.” His eyes go wide in shock, as if he has forgotten about my promise to take him to Hampshire to find information about his mother. “So that’s my phone number.” I take his hand on mine, repressing a shiver at the feeling of his skin on mine, and write my number on his palm. I feel like a character in a cheesy film. “Give it to Bunce, and send me a message with her phone so that I can save her number. Then, I’ll have the means to contact you quickly even if I’m not at school.”

“Oh. Okay. But really, my mum, it’s not the priority now.”

“It’s still important. I don’t want to let you down. So text me, okay? If I’m going back to Hampshire this weekend, I’ll start looking. It’ll keep my mind busy in case I… I get expelled. Or worse. Finding who your mother is gives me a purpose, I’m not doing it entirely selflessly,” I add, because I can’t tell Snow I care. Because I can’t get too soft on him, not when I’m about to leave him. 

“You won’t get expelled. You’ll look through your mum’s things to find information about mine, but you’ll do it with  _ me _ , before we both come back to school. Do you hear me, Basil? You’re not fucking getting expelled. I can’t… I won’t handle it if you do. You  _ can’t  _ get expelled,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion while his eyes are determinately fixed on mine. It makes my head spin. 

“Snow…”

“You can’t Baz, you can’t leave me.”

He lets out a faint, broken sound, before I feel his hands on either side of my face and then…

And then he kisses me.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m kissing Baz Pitch. 

His lips are cold and less soft than Agatha’s were, but I wouldn’t trade the feeling of having them on mine for the world.

I’m kissing Baz Pitch.

He’s startled at first, but then one of his hands grips my waist, so tightly I think it might bruise, pulling me closer.

I’m kissing Baz Pitch.

And he’s kissing me back.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m letting my body take control. I can’t let my brain  _ think  _ just now. I just enjoy it.

Simon’s large hands cupping my jaw, holding me there.

Simon’s thin lips, that taste something sweet and buttery, kind of like what his blood smells like.

Simon’s chest, flushed against mine, so close that I can feel his frenetic heartbeat.

And then it’s Simon’s forehead that I feel, leaning against mine, his hot breath brushing my lips when he whispers “Please come back to me.”


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz meets Dr Wellbelove  
> Penny and Simon talk about feelings

**Baz**

“Hello, Mr Grimm-Pitch,” Dr Wellbelove says as I enter the room where he’s supposed to examine me. 

He’s keeping a straight face, very professional, but I can see some pity in his eyes. 

Of course he pities me. I’m the same age as his daughter and I might have my whole future ruined by the end of the day. I wonder if he’s told Wellbelove anything about what was happening. Probably not. There must be some sort of obligation for him to keep whatever happens here to himself.

“Hello,” I answer coolly.

I take the seat placed in front of Dr Wellbelove. In between us, there’s only a small table, with a few blank sheets of paper on it, and Dr Wellbelove is holding a pen.

“I presume that you know why you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“I will have to examine you either way, but I would like a straight answer. Are you what you’re accused of being?”

_ Accused.  _ As if I didn’t feel enough like a criminal already.

“I’m not sure I understand,” I say, venom dripping from my voice, propping my chin on my joined hands. “What exactly are you asking, doctor?”

He looks visibly uncomfortable. Good. If he can’t even bring himself to say the word, I’m not going to answer his stupid question.

“I want to know if you are a vampire, Mr Grimm-Pitch.”

“I’m a lot of things.”

“You know, young man, that attitude isn’t going to get you anywhere once you’ll be facing the High Court. I do not take offense of your witty comments, but they might. For your own good, you should cooperate.”

“I’m not sure I want to cooperate with people who want to punish me for who I am, Doctor.”

“So you admit it, you are a vampire?”

I click my tongue. “ _ Yes _ , I am. I was Turned when I was 5, as the Coven believes. Happy, now?”

Dr Wellbelove simple shakes his head slightly in disbelief. That poor man probably has better things to do than listen to a teenager give him attitude. I don’t care.

“I have to examine you now. Please push your shirt up so that I can listen to your heartbeat,” he says as he walks around the table. He puts the stethoscope around his neck and puts it in the proper position to use it. It’s not long before I can feel the cold of the metal against my skin. It must be so cold for normal people, if even _ I _ can feel it.

Dr Wellbelove listens for a minute, and then straightens his back.

“What’s the verdict, Doctor?” I ask, making sure to sound as fakely worried as I can.

“I think you know. You’re dead. No creature that is alive has a heartbeat this slow.”

‘You’re dead.’ I don’t often hear those words, they shake me a little.  _ I’ve  _ said them a lot, but not heard them. My family doesn’t talk about my condition, and when Snow was trying to prove what I was, he said vampire, not dead.

“And yet, here I am, breathing, eating, drinking. That doesn’t look like something a dead creature would do, does it?”

“An undead one, then,” Dr Wellbelove says, scribbling on the paper in front of him. “You may leave now.”

I don’t make him say it twice.

**…**

After my meeting with Dr Wellbelove, I have to wait thirty excruciating minutes before my trial starts. I spend most of those alone, anxiety slowly devouring me, until five minutes or so before 5 when my father arrives.

His presence startles me.

You’re not allowed visits before being judged by the High Court. I suppose that his position as a Coven member gives him some privilege. 

I want to run in his arms and make him hold me until I have to go, like he did when I was very little, when Mother was still with us. But I’m not a child anymore, and my father no longer is the father who held me in his arms, so I stay seated, watching him approach. 

He looks as proper as usual, except for his worried frown. 

“Basil.”

“Father,” I say, tilting my head.

“For how long have you been waiting here alone?”

“A little more than twenty minutes.”

He nods. “I’d have come sooner if I knew you’d spend so little time with Dr Wellbelove, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I say as Father sits next to me.

From this close, I can smell his cologne, the same one he’s always worn, and it makes me feel a bit better. It smells a little like the manor in Hampshire, like home. It’s comforting.

“How are you handling things?” he asks me.

“Not very well, to be honest. I’m terrified,” I answer with a shaky laugh.

“I understand. I’m scared too.” The admission surprises me. My father isn’t one to tell me how he feels, especially when it’s something like fear. He puts his hand on my shoulder. My father’s body isn’t particularly hot, he’s not like Snow, but the touch still feels warm “But you have to have faith. There’s no reason it should go wrong, if you act carefully. When the Coven analysed Miss Hale’s case, we decided that she could keep her wand, her magic, as long as she stayed away from our world. There’s no way the sentence they will give you can be worse. However, if you play the right cards, you could get a better sentence. Your family is behind you, it’s already something more than what Miss Hale had ; her parents had disowned her. I haven’t, and never will. Fiona has been very vocal about her support. The High Court knows that you’re not alone in this. Just try to defend yourself well, I know you can, and you should minimize the damage.”

“I’ll try. I’m just hoping not to get my wand snapped,” I say, my hand instinctively patting the pocket inside my jacket where my wand is. “Going back to Watford… It would be wonderful, but I could accept it if I didn’t. But my magic… I can’t lose my magic.”

Father doesn’t answer anything. He simply squeezes my shoulder, a sad smile growing on his face. He stands up from the chair as the door to the room opens and a woman whose name I think is Dorothy steps out. “Malcolm,” she tells Father with a disapproving glance. “You’re not allowed to be here. Conflict of interest.”

“I know,” he answers, lifting his chin, giving him some of that confident arrogance he probably copied from my mother, when he started spending time with her. “But I’m not here as a Coven member, Dorothea.” So Dorothea, not Dorothy. Close enough. “I’m simply here for my son. It’s not forbidden for the defendant to have a family member by their side, so long as this person doesn’t intervene during the judgment.”

I’ve never heard about that rule, but I suppose that Father knows all of them better than I do. He’s been on the Coven for almost two decades, now, surely he’s had time to learn all the loopholes in them.

The woman doesn’t seem pleased, but she doesn’t ask Father to leave, so I suppose he was right and I can indeed have someone in the room.

For a split second, I wish it were Fiona, but I quickly chase that thought away. Fiona would only have made me nervous. Father will simply be a calm presence near me, when Fiona would have been all fire.

“It is time, Mr Pitch,” Dorothea says, and I know she purposely dropped the Grimm part of my last name because she glances at Father has she says it, satisfaction in her eyes.

It’s pathetic, in my opinion, but I’m not going to say that. 

I feel my heart beat faster as I walk through the door, inside the room where the rest of my life is going to be put in the hands of strangers.

**…**

**Penny**

I should check on Simon.

He didn’t come to our classes this afternoon so far, and neither has Baz. I asked his friends -Baz’s friends- if they knew why, and they told me that his audience with the High Court was today. I suppose that’s why. Simon must be in one hell of a state.

I’m proven right when I reach the top of Mummers. He looks miserable when he opens the door. His eyes are puffed and his face is red. 

Can’t life give him a break?

Even when he’s not the one being in trouble he ends up getting hurt.

“Hi, Penny. I was going to come see you after class was over.”

“Were you? Why?”

“I have something to ask you,” he says, not looking at me.

I frown. When he wants something from me, he just asks, he doesn’t do it so carefully. I hope it’s not something illegal. I would do it for Simon, of course, but I’d rather not.

“What is it?”

“Could you lend me your phone? Just for the afternoon. I won’t look through it I promise it’s just because I have to get a call,” he says quickly, slurring his words. He’s still staring at the floor.

My phone? I didn’t even know Simon was aware I had a phone. I don’t use it very often, only to contact my mum when I really need to or when I’m particularly bored and need an easy distraction, so he’s never seen it. And to be honest, I’ve never wanted to show it to him. The Mage has prohibited phones and Simon can be quite annoying when it comes to not respecting the Mage’s orders. 

“I can, but you have to tell me why you need it.”

“I will, just go get it please. I’ll tell you everything when you come back. I have a lot to tell you,” he says with a nervous laugh.

Crowley what’s wrong with him? “Simon…”

“It’s about Baz,” he interrupts me. About Baz. Of course it’s about Baz. It’s always about Baz with Simon. “Yes, I know, the quota,” he adds quickly. I wasn’t even thinking about it. He seems so lost, I’d gladly let him talk about Basil as much as he wants if it makes him feel better about whatever strange thing is going on right now. “But this is important. Please Penny, your phone.”

He’s looking at me with pleading eyes. I never really understood why people talked about “puppy eyes” until I met Simon. He looks like one of those big golden dogs. 

“Yes, yes, I’m going. You go sit down. I’ll be back.”

**…**

I’m still confused as to why Simon would want my phone when I enter his room with it hidden in the waistband of my skirt. Pretty much everyone has an illegal phone, but they’re still not something you show off. No one wants their phone to end up in the Mage’s office, and the only places where you’re really completely safe from the Mage’s control are the bedrooms.

I see that Simon is sitting, as I told him to, but what surprised me is that he’s sitting on Baz’s bed. He scolded me everytime I sat or lay there, telling me that Baz would be mad. 

There’s definitely something going on between those two and it’s  _ more  _ than this “friendship” Simon talked to me about. Was he uncomfortable the other day because he initially thought about telling me they were an item but chickened out? Did he tell me they were friends because he feared my reaction if he told me they were… lovers, or boyfriends, or whatever it is that they are?

I hope it’s not that. I don’t want him to fear my reaction about this kind of things. Well, I don’t want him to be reluctant to tell me he’s got feelings for a boy. He can however be reluctant to tell me he’s got feelings for  _ Baz Pitch _ .

I go sit next to him, almost expecting him to tell me not to come on Baz’s bed, and hand him my phone. “The password is your birthday.”

“Why mine?”

“It’s a birthday so it’s easy for me to remember, but neither my siblings nor my parents know it so they can’t possibly find my password.”

“Smart,” he says with a little smile as he unlocks my phone. He clicks on the message app.

“Si, what are you doing?”

“Sending a message to Baz so that he has your number,” he answers as he types ‘hey it’s simon’. Crowley Simon, would it kill you to use proper punctuation. 

Then he goes to add the number of the person he’s texting, and I see that he’s got it scribbled on his hand in blue ink. “Couldn’t Basil use a piece of paper instead of writing on your skin? And why do you have his number in the first place?”

“I think he did it to be dramatic. It’s Baz after all.” He hits send. The text bubble is blue. Not surprising. “Anyway, that’s what I have to explain.”

He puts my phone on the bed between us, and clears his throat. “God where should I start,” he says to himself. And then, louder. “Ok, so, as you’ve probably noticed, Baz is missing. It’s because his audience with the High Court, it’s today. Someone came to drive him to London at 3. And, uh, he gave me his phone number and asked me to send a message with your phone so that he could contact me once his trial would be over. So yeah that’s why I need your phone for the rest of the day. Well, until he calls. Anyway.”

I have so many questions. But I have to let Simon take his time. Words are difficult for him, and if I ask him all the questions I have in mind, he’ll be overwhelmed. So I just wait, as much as I want answers.

Eventually, he says. “So, uh, you asked me if I knew why Baz was being put on the trial when he received that fire message and I… uh… I kind of lied. I do know why. It’s because he’s a vampire. Be… Because of what happened with that vampire lady that the Mage killed… the Coven is paying attention to mages who’ve been Turned and well, since Baz was at Watford when the vampires attacked, there’s a high chance the vampires Turned him. So he’s going to see Dr Wellbelove and then he’ll be facing the High Court and I don’t really know what will happen but he’s afraid they might expel him, in the best case scenario, or… execute him.”

“It won’t come to that,” I say immediately. “The Coven wouldn’t execute him. They might… They might snap his wand, though.”

“He’s afraid of that too. Fuck I hope they won’t. I don’t want anything to happen to him Penny, I… I… Fuck!”

He punches the mattress, a frustrated groan escaping his lips. “I think I’m in love with him,” he blurts out.

The admission takes me aback, even though I had my doubts. I thought Simon and Baz might be having some sort of ‘friends with benefits’ type of relationship, because they’re both clearly attracted to each other, at least physically, but I didn’t think Simon would say he’s  _ in love _ with Baz.

Well, he said he  _ thought _ he was in love with Baz, but Simon isn’t exactly great with feelings. For someone as emotional as him, he’s terrible at putting words on what he feels. 

“Simon… You hated him something like three weeks ago. Don’t you think this is a bit rushed?”

“I don’t think I really hated him. Not in a long time, at least. I just… I was so used to thinking I hate him that I confused what I felt for him for hate, but now that we’ve started hanging out with each other, I realize that it’s not that. I’ve always wanted his attention. I’ve always wanted to know where he was, and I… I realize that it wasn’t always because I thought he was plotting. I’ve always wanted to get my hands on him, it just took me a while to understand it was not  _ punching  _ him I wanted. I… I just… It’s really hitting me now that he’s threatened. All this time, it felt like Baz and I had to have this big fight, that one of us would end the other, so I should have been relieved that the Coven might do it in my stead you know? But really all I feel is that fucking fear that’s eating away at me. I… I won’t handle it if they hurt him. I can’t bear the thought of Baz getting hurt, I want to fucking protect him from every harm that may come his way but I can’t and it’s driving me crazy. And it’s driving me even crazier to think that I only now realized how much he mattered to me because they might take him away from me, and I… I… I…”

A sob passes through his lips, and then another, and another, wet sounds drowning the words he can’t say. I put my hand on his knee, to show him that I’m here, but I let him cry. He needs to.

“I can’t lose him, Penny,” he eventually manages to say, wiping the tears that rolled down his cheeks. “It’s so sudden but… Fuck it’s so strong, what I feel for him I can’t… I can’t be parted from him when I just understood that I cared for him. That’s such bullshit that all these years we were here and we could have… we could have become friends so much sooner. Jesus Christ, we might have been dating by now if things had been different. But instead we were morons and now he’s gone and I don’t know if he’ll come back,” he say, burying his face in his hands.

“Simon… I don’t really know what to tell you, to be honest. This is… a lot. I thought you might be attracted to Baz, but I didn’t think you cared that much.”

“You did? Think I was attracted to Baz, I mean?” he asks, jerking his head back up so that he can look at me.

Did he really think it wasn’t noticeable, how obsessed he was with Baz?

“Well, yes. But anyway, I didn’t think it was so deep, and I’m sorry that you’re in such a complicated situation right now, but you know Basil. He’s a force to be reckoned with. He might not get in too much trouble and… come back here so that you two can make things work. Well, if he  _ knows  _ that he should come back to you, that is. Have you told him that you like him?”

Blood pools at his cheeks. “Not exactly. But I, uh… I kind of… kissed him,” he admits, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“You… kissed him?” I ask carefully. Once again, it’s not that surprising to me, but it’s very clearly a big deal for Simon.

I supposed it would be a big deal for me too, if I kissed a girl whom I hated for years.

“Yeah. He was about to leave and I was completely overwhelmed with feelings, and I wanted to, and I didn’t think so I did. And he kissed me back so, uh, I guess… I guess things could turn out well if I can still somehow be in contact with him after today.”

I wish I could tell him that Basil cares for him too. It’d probably lift a weight off his chest. But Baz told me that in a moment of vulnerability, knowing I wouldn’t tell Simon, so I’m not going to. I guess these will two have to figure things out on their own.

“I’m sure they will,” I tell him encouragingly, because I truly believe it, patting his knee.

**…**

**Simon**

Penny stays with me the entire evening after that. We don’t talk much, I’m so anxious about Baz, which makes me even worse at keeping a conversation going than usual, but at least she’s here and her presence is enough to keep me from going mad. 

Until her phone rings.

My hands are shaking when I answer the call. “Hello?”

“It’s Baz,” he says, and hearing him makes me feel all warm inside, even if he doesn’t sound quite like he does when we’re talking in the same room and not through a phone. His voice doesn’t let anything show as he continues. “I just left the courtroom. The High Court has given its verdict.” 


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz’s trial

**Baz**

There is something terrifying about being in a room in front of 11 people who are going to decide your fate.

Usually, the Coven is made of 13 people -we don’t have the same beliefs as the Normals, for us, 13 is a good number- but since my Father cannot attend and there has to be an odd number of people for the vote to go smoothly without risking a fifty-fifty, there are only 11 of them. Looking at the people who are there, I see that they’ve decided to remove the member of the Coven who’s the biggest supporter of the Mage. Finally a decision that makes sense.

Maybe they _are_ trying to be fair, after all. Otherwise, they could have asked someone from the Families to leave.

“Please state your full name and your age,” a woman says. 

Patricia Williams. She’s somewhere in her forties, and I know that two of her children are at Watford.

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, 18,” I say, keeping my voice as devoid of emotion as possible. I can’t let them see how much I’m freaking out. It’d please them too much to see me lose my composure.

“Mr Pitch…”

“It’s Grimm-Pitch.”

I usually don’t care if people leave out the Grimm part of my last name. I do too, most of the time. I’m a Pitch, that’s what everyone sees me as, that’s the part of my heritage I’ve been associated with my whole life. But I know that she’s doing it just because my father is right there and I find that particularly disrespectful.

“Excuse me?” Williams say.

I don’t care about her offended tone. Politeness isn’t going to get me anywhere, contrary to what Dr Wellbelove thinks. If they think I’m going to be all weak and pliant, they’ll eat me alive.

“It’s Mr Grimm-Pitch. If you ask me to state my name, the least you can do is not butcher it mere seconds later. Besides, if it wasn’t, Malcolm Grimm could be in attendance with you, so I think it does matter.”

“Baz,” I hear Father sigh next to me.

“You’re not allowed to talk to the defendant, Sir,” Williams snaps at him. “This is your only warning before we ask you to leave the courtroom.” Then, she turns back to me. “Mr Grimm-Pitch, you’re here because the Coven suspects you may be a vampire. Do you refute or confirm this suspicion.”

“Didn’t you have Dr Wellbelove examine me for the sole reason that you wanted to be sure before my trial started?”

“Dr Wellbelove has given us a diagnosis. What I’m asking you is not what Dr Wellbelove said, but if you refute or confirm this suspicion,” she repeats, annoyance tinting her voice. 

I feel all of their eyes on me, waiting for my answer, so I take my time before I say, my eyes boring into Mitali Bunce’s -she’s the person sitting right in front of me, and pretty much the one at the head of the Coven even if it has not been made official- “I confirm it. I am a vampire. As the Coven suspects, I was Turned when I was 5, when vampires attacked Watford.”

A wave of shock hits the assembly. They probably weren’t expecting me to comply this easily.

“You do understand that your condition is a threat to the world of Mage,” Rufus Schafer says.

He’s an old man, who’s been on the Coven since the time when my grandfather was the Headmaster of Watford and Head of the Coven. I’m not sure which side he’s on. He’s part of the Old Families, but he also has this deep-rooted hatred of vampires that a lot of older mages have. 

Mages hate vampires in general, of course, but it’s worse with old people. They’re also much less inclined to change, which doesn’t go in my favour. A mage who is also a vampire being accepted into our society is one hell of a change.

“I don’t, actually. With all due respect, I’ve been living that way for the past thirteen years. It seems a bit ridiculous that the Coven would only start caring about it now, and that they’d care enough to summon me in front of the High Court.”

“Circumstances are different, as you must know.”

“I know. Because of Miss Emmeline Hale’s death, may she rest in peace. The _circumstances_ are different, but _my_ situation isn’t. I’ve never been a threat to our world. I have never bitten a person.”

“How can we know that?” A man I don’t know asks. He seems young. He’s probably one of the mages from that new wave, those who believe the Mage is someone worth supporting.

“I’m afraid all I can give you is my word, for I cannot bring witnesses. My family has paid great attention to the fact that I must feed off animals and not people, never people. I’m not doing any more harm than those of you who eat meat. I’m not dangerous. I’m the same person as you are, except for the fact that I have a slower heartbeat and a slightly different diet. But in all other aspects, I’m a mage. I go to Watford, I study magic. I cherish it.”

“Your going to Watford still represents a danger to the students.”

“Does it really? I’ve been receiving my education there for 7 years, and I have not hurt anyone. Many of you have relatives who are currently at Watford, or were in the past few years. Have any of them complained about me? Said that I’d bitten them or someone they know? I don’t think so. Because I’ve never done that, and I never will. How can you be sure of that, you’re probably wondering. You cannot. Once again, all I can give you is my word. I do not need and do not want to hurt a person to fulfil my need for blood, animals do just fine. You can punish me based on what I _may_ do, but then you’d have to take measures for everyone. Come to think about it, how can you know that someone isn’t going to murder another person? You cannot. Does that mean that you should treat everyone as if they were a murderer? That’s up to you to decide. If you choose to give me a sentence because I’m a vampire, you’re not doing it based on the fact that I am a real threat, for I have not harmed anyone in all the years I’ve lived this way, you’re merely condemning me for having been Turned, for having vampirism forced upon me when I was only a defenseless toddler. You’re punishing me for what I _am_ , not for what I _do_. You’re punishing me because I’m different from you, because I’m not alive the way you are. I personally do not think that having been killed is a criminal offense, but maybe the High Court does. This is all I have to say.”

They all start exchanging glances at the end of my speech, and I feel anxiety rising inside me as Mitali Bunce says “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Grimm-Pitch. The High Court is now going to deliberate and vote to decide which solution they see fit.”

**…**

**Daphne**

Malcolm went inside only a little bit more than an hour ago, but Fiona is already pacing as if it’s been hours. She keeps looking back and forth between her watch and the entrance door. We were not allowed inside the High Court, even if we just stayed in the corridor and not in the courtroom, so we’ve been stuck under the rain ever since we arrived. We went inside my car for a while -Fiona wouldn’t let me inside hers- to protect us from the weather, but Fiona was going crazy so she went back to wait in front of the door, even if it meant she would end up soaking wet. I quickly followed, because I didn’t want Basil to believe I didn’t care if he came outside and saw me on the driver’s seat, seemingly ready to leave. I do care. I care a lot. I wouldn’t have come all the way to London instead of staying with the girls if I didn’t.

At first, that’s what Malcolm wanted me to do. Cordelia and Ophelia don’t really understand what is happening, but Mordelia is a curious and bright little girl, so she knows that her brother is in a delicate situation. She’s worried. It might have been better for her if I stayed instead of coming along with Malcolm, but I had to be here for Baz. It surely won’t matter to him nearly as much as his father’s and his aunt’s presence, but it matters to me. 

“Crowley, why is it taking so long,” Fiona grunts, once again looking at her watch.

I should shut up, Fiona doesn’t exactly try to hide how much she dislikes me, but she’s getting on my nerves. “It’s a trial. It seems obvious to me that it’s not going to last a quarter of an hour. Be patient.”

“Be patient?” she repeats, venom dripping from her voice. I don’t let it get me flustered. I’ve never dealt with Fiona directly before, but Malcolm and her have had enough fights for me to know that she yells a lot but doesn’t bite. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your fucking nephew being judged by those arseholes.”

“Not my nephew, no. My stepson.”

Her whole body tenses as I say it, and if eyes could kill, her glare would have ended me on the spot. “Yeah, _step_ son. Just that. You’re _nothing_ to him. It’s not because Malcolm decided to fuck you that you have to pretend to care about Baz. He’s got a mother and it’s _not_ you.”

Here we go again.

“I know that I’m not his mother. I never said I was. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about him. When I fell in love with Malcolm, I knew he had a son. I chose to be in a relationship with him knowing that it meant having a child that wasn’t mine under my care. But Baz never felt like a burden for all that. Never. I didn’t marry Malcolm _in spite of_ his son. I cared about Baz already after I met him, and my affection for him has only grown since this day. So don’t you dare accuse me of _pretending_ to care for his father’s sake. I don’t need to be related to Baz to hold him dear.”

I don’t use the word love, even though it’s the only one I want to be using. Caring, feeling affection for, holding dear, they all seem like awful understatements, but Fiona might actually become violent if I say that I love Basil. She only sees me as the woman who took her sister’s place in Malcolm’s and Baz’s lives, and will probably never see me as anything else. I don’t mind, Fiona Pitch’s opinion of me doesn’t matter. But I won’t let her insult me like this. 

“Look at you and all your pretty words,” she shoots back. “Perfect fucking Daphne. You say you _care_ ,” she says the word like it’s a swear word. “about Baz, but you barely even know him. You lived with him for what, two years before he went to Watford? You know nothing about him. You know nothing about _caring_ about him. He’s a good kid, smart, talented, polite, so of course you like him. But you don’t love him nearly as much as I, or even _Malcolm_ ever will. Don’t act like you do. Don’t act like you’re even half as fucking worried as I am right now.”

I’m about to say something, when the door opens, stopping me in my tracks.

Baz gets out of the building, Malcolm right behind him.

**…**

**Baz**

I think Fiona and Daphne were arguing. Or Fiona was yelling at Daphne. That’s more likely. Either way, Fiona was pissed, and she took it out on Daphne. I don’t particularly think it’s a good thing to do, I don’t think Daphne did anything to deserve my aunt’s wrath, but I can’t even think of telling her something about it when she throws herself at me, her hands on my shoulders. “What did they say? What did they do?”

The grin that grows on my face is probably answer enough, but I say it anyway, because fuck, it’s all I want to be saying. “I’m not guilty of anything, so they can’t punish me for anything. I get to keep my life, my wand, my bed at Watford. But the moment I put my fangs in another person they’ll have a fire ready for me.”

“Merlin and Morgana,” Fiona says as she pulls me into a hug. “You did it you bastard, you won.”

I smirk, though she can see me “Of course I won, Aunt Fi. I’m a Pitch. We’re not losers, are we?”

**…**

Then it’s Daphne’s turn to hug me. She’s much less dramatic about it than Fiona, simply putting her arms around my middle and holding me close for a second before letting me go, but her tearfilled eyes tell me all I need to know.

I’m a little surprised that she travelled with Father instead of staying home with the girls, but I’m rather happy about it. Father and Fiona can be so overwhelming, both in their own, very different way, Daphne is a calming presence by my side. She makes me feel serene. I’m grateful for that. Today was nerve racking, to say the least. 

“Basilton,” Father says as he walks up to me when I leave Daphne’s embrace. “I didn’t tell you while we were inside because I didn’t want to keep Daphne and Fiona waiting any longer than necessary, but I’m very proud of you. The way you talked to the High Court… You scared me a lot, but it paid off, so congratulations. You did well.” 

And with that, he pats my back. 

**…**

Next thing I know, we’re in the car, on our way back to Hampshire. But I can’t just let Father drive us back there. I need to pick Snow up. He told me we’d do research on his mother together, after all…

“Father, there’s something I need to ask of you.”

He’s in a good mood since the High Court took its decision, he might not be too reluctant to do this one thing for me, even if, I must admit, it’s a big thing.

“Go on,” he says, glancing at me through the mirror.

“We have to go to Watford. There’s someone I want to invite for the weekend.”

That throws him off. Crowley maybe I should have waited until he wasn’t driving in _London_ to ask him. But I need to hear Snow’s voice as soon as possible.

“Someone? And who is that exactly?”

“Simon Snow.”

I should have _definitely_ waited until we weren’t in London anymore. He’s so startled he swerves, earning himself a blast of the horn from the person behind us. “Are you mad? After everything that just happened you want to invite Simon Snow to our house? His magic was spotted in Emmeline Hale’s house Baz, for Merlin’s sake.”

“I know that, but I live with Snow, Father, do you think I would not be worried about this? Which is exactly why I got him to tell me what happened to Miss Hale. Snow isn’t responsible, the Mage is. Snow only tried to save her child, which caused his magic to be detectable in her house since he _was_ there. But he didn’t light the fire, and he didn’t agree to it or participate in it in any way. All he did was protect a little boy from dying with his mother. I think we can both agree that this isn’t something he should be blamed for.

I see his hands grip the wheel more tightly. It’s low, using my mother’s memory to get to him, I’m aware of that, but I can’t go an entire weekend without seeing Snow. Especially not after what he did before I left. 

“Please Father. Snow needs my help with something, and for that, he needs to come to the manor with me.”

“And why would Simon Snow need to come to the manor, exactly?”

“When the Veil was open, he got a visitation. Well, he wasn’t here, so I was the one seeing the ghost, but someone came for him. His mother, Father. His mother tried to reach him, and couldn’t. Now he wants to find information about her, even if it’s just her full name and the way she looked, and I think I might be able to help him with that if we go through the old Watford students photographs Mother kept in her office.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Father says, displeasure in his voice. “You want the Mage’s Heir to come to our house to look through your Mother’s personal effects.”

Well, sure, if he says it like that it sounds bad. But I know that it’s a good thing.

“Yes.”

“Darling,” Daphne intervenes, putting her hand on Father’s arm. It surprises me. She doesn’t often say anything when Father and I are talking -arguing. She often does it _afterwards_ , telling Father that he was wrong or trying to reason him on some things, but never while we’re having a conversation. “Basil rarely ever asks anything of you, and I’d say that considering the circumstances, you could grant him his wish.”

Father sighs, but he can’t possibly say no to both Daphne and I. “Fine. We’re going to Watford. But if Mr Snow does one thing that displeases me, he’ll take the first train back to school, is that clear?”

“Crystal. Thank you Father. I promise he’ll behave. He really just wants to know about his mother. He’s even doing it behind the Mage’s back,” I say, knowing that this might help my Father be more open to the idea of Snow coming to Hampshire.

With that, I take my phone out of my pocket, and call Bunce’s number. Snow answers almost immediately “Hello?” 

It’s just a word, but I positively melt. Eight snakes, it’s ridiculous how much I love this boy.

I try to keep cool as I say “It’s Baz” to keep some suspense. “I just left the courtroom. The High Court has given its verdict?”

“And?”

“And you should pack your stuff. I’m coming to pick you up, we’re going to my house for the weekend, and on sunday, we’re both going back to Watford.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come on, you didn’t really think i’d make the high court punish baz did you?  
> no but more seriously, i considered having them kick him out of watford for a while, i had written a version of the chapter where it’s what happens, but i just couldn’t bring myself to separate simon and baz when they’re starting to enjoy each other’s company (*cough* i’m not rainbow *cough cough*)


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz picks Simon up at Watford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted two chapters yesterday so make sure you didn’t miss one!

**Simon**

“Hey, Simon, no need to speed yourself up like that, even with the best spells, the ride from London is at least 45 minutes, Basil isn’t going to be here in 5,” Penny says, with some amusement in her voice.

I don’t know if she’s making fun of me or if she thinks my eagerness is endearing, and I don’t care. All I can care about is the fact that Baz will be here _soon_ and that no harm has come to him.

“Don’t care. I have to be ready. Besides, I don’t want to make his parents wait. I’m not sure they’re particularly excited about me going to their place so I’m not going to make it worse,” I say as I empty my school bag messily on my desk.

It’s the only bag I own, and I need it to take some clothes at Baz’s. Not that I own many clothes either, just my Watford uniform, a sweater, a pair of jeans and a shirt the Wellbeloves gifted me for Christmas last year and the year before, and the pair of trackies and shirt I left the care home with. Funnily enough, despite how bad I am at magic in general, my cleaning spells for clothes are excellent. They have to be when you can’t change to different clothes all the time. 

“Speaking of, are you sure it’s a good idea to go at the Pitches’ house? Not to sound paranoid, but there’s still a war going on and they’re not exactly on the same side as you.”

“Their son was just put on trial, they have better things to do than plotting my demise. You sound like the Mage,” I tell her because I know that comment will shut her up.

Penny isn’t exactly the biggest fan of the Mage. I think I’m starting to see why.

She makes a face. “Speaking of him, has he contacted you recently?”

“Nope. I haven’t heard a word from him since last monday. I don’t think he’s even at Watford at the moment, now that I think about it.”

I throw two pairs of socks and boxers in my bag, and close it. I’ll just have to grab it on my way out when Baz will text me -he said he’d text a little before they reached the school so that I could go and wait for them before they arrived.

“He’s probably trying to keep a low profile, after what he did to that woman,” Penny comments.

I wish she would talk about that. I try very hard not to think about Emmeline Hale. I can’t help but blame myself for her death, even if the Mage is the one who killed her. 

“Yeah. Maybe. Whatever. I don’t care what he does as long as he doesn’t involve me again.”

**…**

“Si, I just got a notification from Basil,” Penny says, showing me the screen of her phone. “They’re almost there.”

I’m up on my feet before she can finish her sentence. She laughs. “Chill, Simon.”

“I can’t. Baz’s coming. The fucking last thing I did before he left was kissing him Penny, what am I supposed to do now? Am I allowed to kiss him again? Do I wait until we’re at his place or do I try to talk to him about it in the car? Or should I just not ever mention it again and pretend it didn't happen?”

I’m starting to panic, I can feel it. I’m excited to see Baz but I’m so fucking scared at the same time. Crowley, why did I kiss him?

Because it’s the only thing I want to be doing.

“Relax, it’s just Baz.” Yeah, that the problem. It’s _Baz_. “Besides, I think he’s just as confused about this as you. Just… Do whatever feels right. Don’t overthink. To put it simply, act like you always do. Now,” he says, picking my bag up and giving it to me. “Go wait for him. I’ll see you on Sunday, and if you want to talk to me before, well, Baz has my number so just borrow his phone or something.” 

I put my bag on my shoulders “Yeah, yeah good idea. Bye Penny!” I tell her before I rush out of the room. I can hear her going down the stairs after me, to finally go back to her room after staying with her big mess of a best friend all afternoon, but I don’t pay much attention to it. 

Once I’m outside of Mummers, practically run across the school grounds to cross the drawbridge and go wait on the parking lot. It shouldn’t be long before Baz arrives now. 

And indeed, less than five minutes later, I see a car, and my heart misses a beat.

Finally.

**…**

**Baz**

The closer we get to Watford, the more jittery I get. I can’t wait to see Simon, of course, and he seemed excited on the phone, but what if the kiss we shared before I left changed something between us in a _bad_ way?

I refrained from kissing him all this time for that reason, I won’t handle it if he rejects me after _he_ kissed me. I know that he’s confused and just now starting to figure out his sexuality, that it was probably just him experimenting because I was here and I was a bloke so why not kiss me to see if he likes it, but fuck, the feeling of his lips on mine is the best fucking thing i’ve experienced in my entire life -if you can call it a _life_ \- and I’m not sure how I’ll survive without it.

The moment my eyes can finally spot him, I feel warmth course through me. He has this huge grin on his face that makes me think the kiss might not have just been an experimentation, or something he did in desperation because it could have been the last time we were in that room together as Watford students.

I unbuckle my seatbelt before Father has even stopped the engine, and I’m out of the car almost immediately, walking towards Snow as quickly as I can without _running._ He doesn’t have this kind of consideration. When I step out of the car, he starts running in my direction, and soon enough, he crushes me against his chest.

Well, I wasn’t expecting that. 

I’m startled for a second, but then I simply put my arms around him, enjoying the heath of his body, the scent of his blood, of school-issued soap and of something indescribable that is inherently _Snow,_ and the way his hands grip the back of my coat like he never wants to let go of me ever again. 

My father is probably having a heart attack right now. I can’t even bring myself to care. Simon Snow is giving me a hug, it’s all that matters.

“You’re safe,” he whispers, the sound muffled by my shoulder. “Fuck you’re safe. You did it you glorious fucker.”

I let out a wet sound at that, something a bit like a sob, even if I’m not going to admit that. I’ve cried enough before my trial I’m not going to cry again _after._

“Of course I did it, Snow. Were you expecting me to fail?”

“No,” he laughs softly. “I’ve never seen you fail at anything. Irritating, perfect fucking prick.”

He moves back after he says that, but he doesn’t completely stop touching me. His right hand, instead of falling back along his body like the left one, slides from my back to my wrist, almost low enough to hold my hand.

I wish he’d go so far as to actually hold it.

He doesn’t, but instead, his eyes bore into mine, and I drown in this ordinary blue that I cherish so much. He opens his mouth, a pink tint on his cheeks “I… We should go. Let’s not keep your parents waiting for too long,” he says as he drops my arm, looking away.

I’m pretty sure that’s not what he meant to say. Crowley what did he mean to say?

**…**

**Simon**

Okay, I chickened out. 

But how do you tell the bloke you like that you like him, uh? How do you tell him that you almost went mad thinking about the fact that you might lose him?

And anyway, I think it may be better to try and talk about that, about the kiss and what I feel for him, later, when we won’t have to be in a car with his parents right after; 

“Yes, let’s do that,” he says, with something like disappointment in his voice, before clearing his throat as he turns around. 

We head to the car, and I get a quick look at his parents. I’ve seen his dad a couple of times when he dropped Baz here or came pick him up, but I’ve never seen his step mother. She has big brown eyes and a small smile on her face. She looks sweet, much less intimidating than Baz’s father. 

I feel uncomfortable even touching their car to open it, let alone sitting in it. I can tell just from the look of it that it’s a crazy expensive car -of course it, Baz’s family is the wealthiest in the World of Mages- I don’t belong in there, with my school uniform that I’m wearing because I have so little proper clothes and want to keep them for the weekend. 

“Oh, sorry, Snow, have you never been taught how cars work? You have to sit and put that band over your body and the little metal thing in that hole,” he says, pointing at the seatbelt with a smirk on his face. It seems like he’s back to being his usual annoying self.

I can’t believe I’m glad about that too, but he was too shaken to be much of an arsehole, lately. That he can antagonize me proves that he’s doing better.

“Are you sure it’s going to fit in that tiny hole? It’s rather big,” I tease him back, playing along. 

The reaction I get isn’t what I expected. Baz’s cheeks turn a faint shade of pink, and I hear his Father cough loudly, as if he choked on his saliva.

**…**

**Baz**

Aleister fucking Crowley can he hear himself?

_Are you sure it’s going to fit?_

Here’s another sentence to add to my fantasies, I guess.

Even Father seems to interpret Snow’s word as some lewd flirting, which I can honestly not blame him for. I want to set myself on fire.

Snow just looks confused. This adorable fucking moron. It’s tragic that he has to be so stupid when he’s so damn good looking. But I suppose he wouldn’t be single if he was handsome _and_ had brains, so I’m not going to complain too much. Besides, it’s kind of cute, how he constantly seems lost.

“Just get in the bloody car, Snow,” I tell him with an exasperated sigh. “You’re an inconvenience.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said he was picking me up,” he says as he finally buckles his seatbelt. “The blame is on you, mate.”

“I will gouge your eyes out if you ever call me mate again.”

“Lots of talk, no action.”

I simply roll my eyes. If I answer, we’ll just keep the banter going until we get to Hampshire, and I have to be a polite person and introduce Snow to my parents.

Crowley I’m introducing Snow to my parents.

“Whatever. Snow, my parents, Malcolm and Daphne Grimm. Father, Mother, Simon Snow.”

Arguably, it could have been done better, but this is a stressful situation, ok? I’m pretty sure Father and Daphne believe that Snow and I are dating after he hugged me like that. In their mind, I’m introducing my _boyfriend_ to them.

“Thanks for having me, Mr and Mrs Grimm,” Snow says, sheepish.

“Of course,” Daphne answers kindly. Bless this woman. I’m glad she isn’t trying to make him uncomfortable, or leaving the talking to Father. “Baz was excited to have you come home with us,” she adds. I can’t see it but I know a smile is tugging at her lips. Forget everything I said. I despise her. 

“Was he now? Did you miss me that much, Basil?” Snow asks, batting his eyelashes ridiculously. 

“I was gone for mere hours. Believe it or not, I can survive a few hours without seeing your stupid face.”

I can’t really, though.

“You like my stupid face.”

I do like his stupid face. Not that I’m going to admit it now. “I most certainly don’t.”

“If you say so. Anyway,” I can tell from how that word sounds that he’s being serious again. I suppose this is the part where we talk about the trial. I wish we could skip that part. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but if you do… Would you mind telling me how your trial went? How did you manage to get them to let you walk out free?”

He’s being so careful with his words. I imagine it’s because Bunce often makes him talks about things he doesn’t want to think about, and he’d rather not do that to me.

Technically, I know that I could just tell him to drop the topic and he would, but as much as I want to forget about the trial and the stress it caused me, if I was Snow and he were me, it’d kill me not to know what happened to him. So, I simply try to find a comfortable position to look at Snow without craning my neck, and then say “Well, I just told them that I had never bitten a person and that if they sentenced me to anything, it’s who I am they would be condemning instead of my actions, and it seemed to convince them. Apparently, they’re not as unfair as I thought them to be. They told me that they would let me keep living my life in our world peacefully so long as I didn’t harm someone, but that if I did… well I wouldn’t be alive long enough to do it again.”

He listens to me with great attention, kind of like he did when I was explaining things to him about my family for his history homework. Fear flashes in his eyes at the end of my sentence but he quickly goes on about something else “And did they tell you why your trial was held by the High Court and not just the regular court of the Coven? You told me the High Court was for the biggest crimes, but you haven’t committed any bloody crime and technically they didn’t accuse you of commiting one, they accused you of being a vampire.”

“They have not told me why, but I’ve thought about it, and I can see two reasons. Firstly, so that my father couldn’t attend. When the High Court takes a decision, it’s supposed to be the whole Coven voting, but certain members can be asked to step aside, when there’s a conflict of interest for example. And there obviously _was_ a conflict of interest in my situation since my father is in the Coven.” 

“Okay but why couldn’t they just let their normal court deal with it? You know, the one with three people.”

“My father is one of those three people, Snow,” I tell him with a small sad smile. “And when it comes to this particular court, the members can’t step aside or be replaced by someone else for a trial, so the High Court happened to be the only option.”

“Oh, okay. That’s a complicated situation.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “But it’s not the only reason. The second one I can think of is that the regular court cannot give the death sentence, only the High Court can, because the death penalty, though still applicable, is very outdated and controversial nowadays, so I suppose that they chose the High Court so that they could burn me at the stake if they weren’t convinced by my defense,” I say, snorting. Deep down I’m as horrified by my words as Snow looks, but I can’t let it show like he does, with his wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. 

“Do you really think they would have… burnt you?” he asks hesitantly, spitting the words out as if they hurt him.

“I have no doubt they would have if they believed I had ever drained someone.”

“Thank Merlin they believed you then. And thank Merlin you never did.”

“I’m not a murderer, Snow,” I say more coldly than I mean too.

My vampirism is already a sensitive topic to begin with, but thinking about me biting a person… it puts me on edge. Especially coming from Snow, who’s tried to accuse me of this for years.

“No, no, no, I know, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head and reaching out with his hand. I think he wants to touch me, but stops at the last minute. He’s probably afraid I’m going to push him away if he does. I wouldn’t. “I know that you’re not! And I absolutely don’t think that you could ever do that, biting someone.” Wow, fifth year Snow would drop dead if he heard his future self say that. He’d probably think I cast a spell on him or used my _vampire thrall_ on him. I’m not even sure vampire thrall is a thing, but I’m convinced Snow believes it is. At least the Snow who used to accuse me of being a vampire every five minutes. I’m not sure the Snow I have in front of me now has the same beliefs. I hope not.

“I’m just relieved you haven’t gotten any punishment, I’m sorry, I should have paid more attention to what I said,” Snow adds, his voice apologetic.

Merlin and Morgana, this beautiful nightmare. I’m so in love with him.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I overreacted. I’m just a bit nervous still.”

“I don’t blame you,” he says huffing out a laugh. “I’d probably have gone off like ten times today if I was the one going through what you did.”

“It’s a good thing not all of us are magic bombs then I suppose,” I tell him, giving him one of my signature smirks, trying to bring the conversation to a lighter note again. 

He thankfully takes the hint, punching my arm as he says “God, you’re such a gigantic prick.”

“Don’t swear like a Normal.”

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”


	25. Bonus : Daphne and Malcolm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Daphne talk about Baz (and Simon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a chapter per say, but a little scene I wrote about Malcolm and Daphne. I didn’t want to include it in a chapter, but I still wanted to be part of the story, so here it is
> 
> This scene takes place on the night Baz and Simon arrive in Hampshire, somewhere after/while the events of the next chapter, that’ll be posted tonight. I could have waited until I posted this to post the bonus, but I wanted it to be after the car ride

**Daphne**

“I need a drink,” Malcolm says the moment we settle in the blue lounge for the evening. I thought he would. “Do you want something to drink too?”

He’s standing next to the liquor cabinet, one glass in hand, his hand hovering over the others waiting to see if he needs to take another one. I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

He hums, and turn around to fix himself some whiskey. The smell of it makes me scrunch my nose when he sits next to me. He deals with the problem of the stench by drinking his entire drink in one go, making a face as the alcohol burns his throat. “That bad?” I ask him with a smile.

The look of pure desperation he shoots me back makes me smile wider. “They’re dating, aren’t they?” he mumbled, clearly displeased by that information, as he sets his now empty glass on the table.

“They probably are, yes. You should have expected it when Baz asked you to have someone who wasn’t Dev or Niall over for the weekend.”

“I bought his little story about Snow’s mother.”

“Oh, that may be true. But it’s not the only reason he wanted Mr Snow to come here, quite evidently.”

“Yes, I realize that now. They kept _flirting_ Daphne. In the car and now at dinner… I really tried not to listen but I still heard some things,” he sighs, rubbing the corner of his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. “I just wish he’d given me a heads up, you know? ‘Hey, Father, I’m dating a boy now. Oh, and he’s going to come home and sleep in my room’.”

I try really hard not to laugh, I don’t think Malcolm would appreciate, but I cannot help the little huffed sound that escapes my lips. “They do share a room at Watford.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“As long as they’re safe…” I start, amusement in my voice.

He goes a little pale. “Daphne, please.”

“Your son is 18, Malcolm. You were 18 too. You know that Mr Snow and him don’t just hold hands and stare at each other amorously when they’re alone.”

“And I’d rather _not_ think about it, thank you very much.”

I giggle at that, and Malcolm shoots me an irritated glare. 

“We’ll see how you’ll feel the first time one of the girls brings someone home,” he mutters under his breath. “You won’t laugh that much.”

“Oh, come on Malcolm. If he was straight you’d be asking him if he found himself a fiancée already.”

He sighs, putting one of his arms over the top of the couch behind my shoulders. “Well, he’s not. And truly, it’s been two years since he told us, I’ve wrapped my head around the fact that he was gay. I don’t think I’d feel any better about this if it was a girl. It’s just… He’s really grown now, isn’t he? Today, he defended himself in front of the High Court all alone. He has a… boyfriend. Soon he’s going to move out and live on his own. It’s… strange thinking about the fact that he… that he isn’t…”

“That he isn’t your little boy anymore?” I ask, putting my hand on his thigh. 

“Yes. You said it, I was 18, and when I was, I was already thinking about marriage and starting a family. Of course I was with Natasha and I knew that she wanted to go to uni before we did all of that, but I _thought_ about it, and it seems so… adult. The fact that Baz may be thinking about the same things… It’s not that it makes me uncomfortable but I’m not fond of the idea. He’s so young still.”

I had no idea Malcolm felt that way about Basil growing up. We don’t ever really talk about the fact that it’s his last year at Watford and that therefore, this summer he’s moving out for university. Now I’m starting to understand that it’s because Malcolm avoided the topic. 

To be honest, I also feel this way, though probably much less intensely than him. Baz was 9 when I met him, he was still a child. He’s almost a man, now. It’s a heady feeling, thinking about this little angry kid who told me he wanted me to leave his house and never come back, who grew up to be the young man who let me hug him after he brilliantly defended himself in a trial. He’s changed so much. He’s _grown_ so much.

I rub circles over the fabric of Malcolm’s trousers with my thumb. “It had to come to this, eventually. He can’t stay a little kid his whole life. But… he was already at Watford most of the time. It won’t change much. You’ll see him a bit less, but he’ll still come home. Unless you make him feel like he shouldn’t.”

It’s a difficult road I’m going down. Malcolm doesn’t realize half of the things he does that aren’t good for Baz.

“What do you mean?” he frowns.

“Well, you haven’t told him that you had ‘wrapped your head around the fact that he was gay’, as you said, have you? The last reaction he got from you about his sexuality was how you took his coming out and you didn’t exactly take it well. He probably still thinks that you’re disappointed in him.”

“Do you think so?”

Merlin, he really has no clue. 

“I know that it’s a hard concept for you to understand, but Baz doesn’t read minds. If you don’t tell him things he cannot know them. Try _talking_ to your son. I’m sure it would improve your relationship if you two talked to each other. Just think about it ; Baz is close to Fiona, right? Closer than he is to you? Why do you think that is? Because he can _talk_ to her. He may fear some of her reactions, but not half as much as he fears yours. You’re an enigma for him, Malcolm. Or rather, who you truly are is. He only knows this version of you he’s created in his mind from the few things he knows.”

I see him lose his composure as I speak. He takes a few seconds to think about my words once he’s done, and then he says “Are you sure?”

“I’m not in his head, I can’t be _sure_ , but I know that he’d like to be able to be more open with you. He told me so this summer.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“He did? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wanted to see if he’d try going to you. But he did not, and the fact that he now seems to have a boyfriend makes the situation even more complicated, so I think it was time I told you.”

“And you also think that I should try talking to him, right? About Snow?”

“Not necessarily only about that, but it’d be a good start. Don’t make him fear telling you he’s in love. It’s a beautiful thing, he should not feel ashamed about that.”

He nods. He doesn’t even flinch when I talk about Baz being in love with Mr Snow, so I suppose he has indeed accepted the fact that it would always be a boy Basil would fall in love with.

His hand slides from the empty space between us to mine, and he intertwines our fingers on his thigh before raising them to his mouth, kissing the inside of my wrist. “What would I do without you?”

“Not much,” I tell him with a smile, my hand freeing itself of his to get lost in his hair. 


	26. Chapter Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys’ first evening in Hampshire, part 1

**Simon**

Baz and I keep chatting for the rest of the trip, and it almost feels like being in our room, except for the fact that we can’t touch and have to be careful about some of the things we say because his parents are here. It feels good, to be like that with him, but I want more. I can’t wait to be _alone_ with him, and the thought of being alone with him _in his room_ sends a shiver down my spine. 

It’s not the plan for now, though. Right now, we’re about to enter the house, and Baz told me we’d immediately go have dinner, because it’s starting to be late for his little sisters and Vera, the nanny -they have a bloody _nanny-_ was ordered to wait for Baz’s parents to come back to let dinner be served.

The girls must hear the door open because a few seconds later, right after Malcolm and Daphne went in and disappeared to a room on the left, one of them throws herself at Baz, putting her small arms around his hips. She’s so small, the top of her head only reaches the middle of his stomach. “Mum and Dad said you were in trouble,” she says, looking up at Baz. I stay behind, not quite entering the house yet, and just watching Baz talk to his little sister.

One of his hands pats the top of her head. “I was, but it’s okay now. It’s been dealt with, and I’m not in trouble anymore.” His voice is sweeter than I’ve ever heard it. Is it the voice he uses with children, or is it just because his sister is upset?

“You promise?”

“I promise. Pinky swear?”

She nods, and Baz crouches in front of her, showing her his pinky. She hooks it with hers, and smiles. 

Then her eyes widen and she gives Baz’s knee a smack. “Why is the Chosen One with you?”

I feel myself blush. I don’t like it when people call me the Chosen One. 

“Call him Simon, Mordy, not Chosen One.”

“ _You_ don’t call me Simon.” 

He ignores me. Typical.

“He’s with me because he’s a friend of mine and he needs my help with something.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with the Chosen One. I didn’t know you _had_ friends.”

I can’t help but snort at that. Baz glares at me, before looking back at his sister. He’s still crouching to be at eye level with her. “Well, _Simon_ is my friend. And I do have friends. I have Dev and Niall.”

“Dev doesn’t count he’s our cousin and Niall would make friends with a plant so he doesn’t count either,” the little girl -Mordy, apparently. I doubt that’s her full name- says before simply turning around and hoping her way into the room where her parents disappeared a bit sooner. 

“She’s a funny little girl,” I tell Baz as he stands back up.

“She’s a pain in my arse, but I love her,” he says, fondness in his voice. “That’s Mordelia, by the way, the older one. I think the others are already sitting around the table, so we’d better go to the dining room. Take your shoes off, and leave your bag there, you’ll pick it up when we go to my room.”

He says it as if it’s not making me stop functioning to hear him talk about us in his room.

I nod nonetheless. “Yeah, the dining room is a good idea. I’m starving,” I say as I kick my shoes off my feet, before bending down to put them next to Baz’s. We’re at his place, not at Watford, I’m not going to make a mess of things. 

“You’re always starving, Snow, nothing new about that.”

I give him a grin before I put my bag down with my shoes, and then I follow him to the room on the left. It’s not the right room yet. It seems to be a living room, but there is no TV or anything to keep yourself entertained, just sofas, armchairs, and a small table. It’s a bit sinister in here, honestly, with this dark furniture and dark wallpaper. I hope the whole house isn’t like that, but honestly, I think it is. The facade and entrance hall were equally as creepy.

Surprisingly, the dining room isn’t that bad. The walls are a bit lighter, which makes it much less sombre, and maybe the fact that three children in yellow, purple and pink pyjamas are here also helps make the room more welcoming. The food has already been served -the children were probably quite hungry- but two empty plates have been left for Baz and I, one next to Mordelia, and one next to one of the twins. He told me he had twin sisters, and the two girls in the yellow and purple pyjamas look so much alike, I have no doubt that they are the twins he talked about. We settle around the table in silence, Baz next to Mordelia. The two girls on my left stare at me curiously. “Who’s that?” one of them asks, looking between me and Daphne.

“His name is Simon, Ophelia. He’s my friend. He’s going to stay with us for the weekend,” Baz says.

“Simon,” she repeats, frowning a little bit, as if my name was an enigma. It’s so cute.

“Snow, my two other sisters, Ophelia and Cordelia.”

“I Cordelia,” the girl sitting further away from me says, pointing at herself with her index finger.

“Yes, honey, you’re Cordelia,” her mother says tenderly. 

“And I Ophelia,” the other says immediately, probably to be praised too.

Daphne plays along, smiling at her too. “Yes, sweetheart. Eat now, you two.”

The girls don’t need to be told twice. 

Baz reaches out with his hand to take my plate. I’m glad he does, I wouldn’t have helped myself. He put a slice of meat -beef- in it, and then looks at me as he scoops mashed potatoes. “More?” he asks after dropping three spoonfuls in my plate.

“No, it’s fine, thanks.”

“Do you want sauce?”

“Er, yeah, why not. On the meat, please.”

He takes something that looks like a tiny pitcher and make some sauce pour out of it before giving me back my plate. “Enjoy.”

If his parents weren’t here, I’d have joked about what a good housewife he is, but his parents _are_ here and his father is already looking at us with disbelief in his eyes so I’m not going to make it worse. Instead, I just thank him, before starting my food.

And holy shit it’s the best food I’ve ever tasted.

“Oh my God, that’s so good,” I tell Baz after swallowing a bite, pointing at my plate with my fork.

His plate is still empty. I’m used to him not eating, but I thought that he would, with his family. Apparently not. I’ll really have to ask him about that later.

“Will you stop swearing like a Normal?” he says, but I can hear that he’s amused. 

“Sorry but it’s just so tasty. So much better than at Watford,” I say as I cut my meat.

Baz rolls his eyes. “Of course it’s better than at Watford. It’s not exactly hard to get food better than at Watford. If _that’s_ what you consider good food I’ll seriously have to take you to a good restaurant, to make you taste food that’s actually incredible.”

“I’m down for the restaurant when you are, mate.” He glares at me. He really hates it when I call him ‘mate’. That’s why I do it. “But the food we have at school is the best food I’ve ever eaten so excuse me if I think it’s good, we’re not all rich pricks like you,” I shoot back, a grin on my lips.

I don’t want him to believe I’m actually pissed off ; I know that Baz and I grew up in very different worlds, but I also know it’s not his or my fault. Besides, I also know that he isn’t trying to flaunt his wealth at me because I have no money. It’s just Baz being _Baz._

“Watch your language in front of the kids, Snow. Don’t go teaching my sisters swear words.”

I feel my cheeks burn. “Sorry. I’m not used to being around kids.”

“You told me you spent your summers with children,” Baz says, raising one of his eyebrows.

I still don’t understand how he does that. I practiced in the mirror but I just can’t do it.

“Yeah, but it’s the babies. It doesn’t matter how I talk, they can’t repeat what I say. And I don’t talk much anyway. I don’t have anyone to have a conversation with, you know?”

I wish I did. I’m not particularly good at _talking_ but I like listening to people telling me things. But last summer was the last I spent in the care homes, since I'm eighteen now, so it doesn’t matter that much. It’s all in the past.

Baz gives me a sad look, but he doesn’t say anything.

“By the way, I say after a moment because the silence was becoming uncomfortable. “What’s your other sister’s name? Your baby sister, I mean.”

“Octavia.”

“Oh, that’s pretty. So you’re the only one who got an ugly name, uh?”

“Crowley, will you stop with my name?” he chuckles. “It’s a family name, I’ve told you a million times.

“Doesn’t make it acceptable. It’s _really not_ a pretty name. And it’s not like your middle name is great either. It’s better than _Tyrannus_ , but it’s still not _good._ ”

“Why do you think I go by Baz? Besides, you make fun of my name a lot for someone called Simon _Snow.”_

“Yeah but in my case it’s my last name so it’s not that big of deal. I still have a normal first name.”

He waves his hand, as if to chase my comment away like he’d do an annoying fly. “Whatever. Finish your plate. I’m exhausted I just want to collapse in bed and not move for the next 24 hours,” he says, and it’s true that he does look exhausted.

He’s got dark circles under his eyes, but that’s pretty common for Baz -I hate it, I wish he got enough sleep that he didn’t constantly look like that- and his posture is less straight and proper than usual. He’s not slouching, of course, Baz Pitch doesn’t slouch, but he’s not holding himself as perfectly as usual.

It reminds me of that night when we did my history essay together. Which makes me think that I still haven’t told him I got a good grade.

“By the way,” I say. “I got my history essay back the other day. I couldn’t tell you because of everything that was going on but, uh, I got a good grade! It’s like, the best grade I’ve ever gotten in history, so thank you!”

“Don’t thank me,” he answers, a proud smile on his face. It makes me feel all warm inside. “You did most of the work.”

“Come on, I would have never been able to do it without you. Accept my gratitude and move on,” I tell him before I resume eating. I need to finish that plate so that we can go up and Baz can rest. He deserves it, after everything he’s been through in the past few days.

**…**

**Baz**

“You’ll give Mr Snow one of the spare rooms,” Father says as Snow and I are on our way out.

I turn at him. “There’s no need, really, he can stay in mine.”

“I would prefer if he did not.”

So Father _definitely_ thinks Snow is my boyfriend. He never complained when Niall slept over in my room. 

“We share a room at school, Father. It’s not different. Snow will stay with me. He’d probably be scared of the wraiths and run to my room anyway,” I say before walking away. 

I’m not going to let my father win this. I’m not going to sleep apart from Simon Snow for two days because my father doesn’t want to think his son may be shagging a boy under his roof. 

Anyway, the Manor’s mine since I turned eighteen so if I could shag Snow here I would and my father would have nothing to say about it.

“The _what?_ ” Snow says, following me. “Is that place bloody haunted?”

“Yes.”

“You’re joking, right?” 

I don’t answer. I simply start climbing up the stairs. It’s not long before he says “Baz, you’re joking?” his voice unsure.

“I’m not. The manor’s haunted, and there are wraiths in most of the bedrooms. Not in mine, though. I creep them out.”

I’m not sure if he believes me, but he does look scared, I notice when I reach the top of the stairs and turn around to look at him.

“Baz seriously it’s not funny, are you playing me or is your house actually haunted?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the staircase.

I put my hand on my hip, tilting my head. “I wouldn’t joke about this, Snow. It’s actually haunted. But the ghosts can’t hurt you, just scare you. Anyhow, you’re staying in my room, and they don’t go downstairs, so you’ll be fine. Stop being a baby and follow me. Even my sisters aren’t scared of the wraiths.”

Anymore. 

Mordelia wouldn’t sleep in her own room from age three to five. I don’t know how Daphne and Father did it, having Mordy in their room and Ophelia and Cordelia, who were just babies back then, in the next room. I must have been hell.

“Well your sisters grew up in your creepy house, so of course they’re not scared,” he mumbles, but he does start moving again. Once he’s on the first floor with me, I walk towards my room. “Why do you people even live in that bloody gothic caste, couldn’t you buy a nice house in London with all that money?”

“It’s not gothic, it’s Victorian, and it’s a manor, not a caste. And no, we couldn’t just buy a nice house in London, Snow. My family has lived here for centuries, and it’s a really nice place once you’re past the gloomy aspect of it. I promise you, when my sisters will be running around the house dressed up as pirates and princesses, yelling and singing, the house won’t seem so creepy anymore. Or, more accurately, it’ll be creepy for other reasons.”

Those little girls are definitely more terrifying than the ghosts.

Snow laughs “I’d love to see that.”

**…**

“Fuck Baz your room is as big as the room in which I slept in the last care home I was in and there were 9 other blokes with me,” Snow says with wonder in his voice as his gaze travels around my room.

Even I must admit that it’s quite large. I like it a lot, having all of this room to myself. It’s my personal space, the only place in the house that’s really mine. Well, Mordelia tends to barge in unannounced, but she doesn’t do it often, and my parents and Vera always knock, so I’m relatively at peace here. 

“It’s great, isn’t it? I love my room. I just wish I could decorate as I wish.”

“You can’t?”

“No. Technically, it’s not forbidden, my aunt Fiona painted on her walls, but it’d be frowned upon, and I don’t care about the decoration enough to risk a lecture. I only have to wait until I move out alone to organize the space as I please, after all.”

Snow turns at me, focusing his attention back on me and not the room. “You’re moving out alone after school?”

“Yes, why?”

“Oh, well I assumed you’d live with Dev and Niall or something. Penny and I are going to move in together,” he says, a sweet smile on his face.

I must be so exciting for him, who’s always lived in those bloody care homes, to think that he’ll have a place where he can actually stay for as long as he pleases, and with someone he loves. I’m glad he gets to have that, in his future.

“I already can’t handle their constant flirting, and I’m not with them that often. If we lived together, I’d kill them,” I tell him as I take off my suit jacket.

I flex my shoulders, trying to make them feel less sore. Today was a _really_ long day.

I put it over the back of the couch, and then go sit on my bed. I look at Snow expectantly until he gets the hint and joins me on the bed.

Simon Snow.

On my bed.

In my childhood home.

I feel a little light-headed thinking about it.

Crowley how many nights did I spend in this very bed, lying awake, with the memory of his blue eyes and bronze curls.

How many times did I _wank_ in this very bed, thinking about him. After fifth year, I tried wanking my feelings away, because I wanted it to be sexual attraction and not _love_ but it obviously didn’t work. 

“Say, Baz,” Snow says, bringing me back to reality. “Why did your dad not want me to sleep in your room? Is it because you’re…” He blushes. Idiot.

“Gay? Yes. He likes to ignore that I’m attracted to men, and he can’t really do that when I have a boy in my room, can he.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Snow says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But uh… is he… you know, _homophobic_ your dad?”

Fifteen year old Baz, who cried himself to sleep because he was terrified Father would stop loving him if he knew he was gay would say yes. I won’t, though.

“No. He’d rather see me marry a woman in the future, and I know that he’s disappointed that I won’t, but in the end, his love for me outweighs that, I think. But he isn’t really comfortable with actually being confronted to the fact that I am, in fact, gay.”

Snow hums, nodding pensively. 

“I guess it could be worse, then. I mean, it could be better too, but…”

“Yeah, I get it. He didn’t kick me out or disown me, I consider that a win. Tolerance isn’t really the Families’ motto. Whatever, let’s not talk about this kind of things. No more depressing topics tonight. Today was though, tonight I want to relax.”

**…**

**Simon**

I wanted to talk to him about the kiss, but I’ll wait then. If he wants to relax, we’ll do that.

By the time I find the courage to try and talk about it, the moon is high in the sky, and Baz has let his hair down and unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. I’ve noticed that’s something he does a lot, when he’s keeping his shirt instead of changing to night clothes. I’m not mad at it. I get a peak of that grey skin of his.

I want to kiss it. To press my lips on his jaw, down his neck, to his collarbones, following the line in the middle of his chest.

Most of all I want to kiss his lips again. 

I want to kiss _him._

“Baz?”

I’m going to do it.

I’ve called his name, I can’t go back now. I have to do it.

What do I have to lose anyway? In the worst-case scenario, he rejects me. It’d hurt, but I’ve seen worse.

“Yes?” he asks, shifting his legs. He’s been lying in the same position, on his side, propped up on one elbow for so long it’s actually scary. Does his body not get sore? Or does it take longer for him to feel discomfort since vampires have a much higher pain resistance?

Whatever it is, it allowed Baz to keep the exact same pose for dozens and dozens of minutes.

“There’s something I want to ask you. It’s a bit presumptuous, honestly, but I just… I have to ask.”

I _have_ to shoot my shot. I’ll regret it forever if I don’t. And Penny told me not to overthink things, so I’m going to listen to her. Penny is usually right.

He looks at me, curious, as he says “Go on.”

“Would you… would you like to be my boyfriend?”

**…**

**Baz**

Ok, did the Coven actually burn me? Is this heaven? A parallel universe?

Whatever it is, it’s fucking glorious, because Simon Snow is here, red-faced in my bed, asking me… I can’t even believe it. It’s too good to be true.

“Excuse me what?” I blurt out, because it’s the only coherent thing that can pass my lips right now.

Snow turns even redder.

“Forget I said anything!” he says, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m sorry it was inappropriate, of course you don’t want that.”

It’s the only fucking thing I want.

“Snow! Crowley Snow, no. I’m just… You caught me off guard, okay?” I tell him, trying to sound comforting, as I put one of my hands on his shoulder. 

He spreads his fingers to look at me through them, and eight fucking snakes he’s so adorable it hurts. I yank his shoulder, making him gasp loudly, so that he end up lying too, on his side like me. We’re face to face, that way, and I can see all of his freckles. They drive me crazy. I want to kiss them all. I want to kiss him until my lips are sore and I’ve explored every inch of his body.

“But…” I continue, and I see him tense. I can hear his heartbeat quicken. “I would love to be your boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!  
> school is starting again tomorrow (all online, we love lockdown -this is not ironic) so i’ll have less time to write. i could technically still manage to write one chapter a day, and therefore to post one chapter a day, but i may not, so i’m warning you in advance that i might change from a chapter every day to a chapter every two days, i’m sorry!  
> anyway if it does come to this, i’ll tell you


	27. Chapter Twenty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They kiss. A lot.  
> And they ask some delicate questions

**Baz**

If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.

Snow is all over me, one of his legs in between mine, his body flushed against mine in a way that’s almost indecent. One of his hands is on my neck, while he’s holding himself up with his other arm not to crush me. I wouldn’t mind if he crushed me.

But most importantly, and that’s what’s really extraordinary, his lips are on mine. They were soft at first, hesitant, as if he didn’t know if he was allowed to do this, but now he’s biting and licking my lower lip, which is positively driving me mad.

Who knew Simon Snow would be such a good kisser? Well, I don’t exactly have anything to compare with, but it’s so fucking good. He does this thing, where he moves his chin up and done that make me melt.

Crowley did Wellbelove teach him all of that? I should send the girl flowers. 

He shifts, his thigh pressing against my crotch and all thoughts of anything that isn’t _him_ disappear.

Crowley I hope I won’t get hard. That’d be embarrassing.

**…**

**Simon**

Jesus Christ this better not be a dream.

No, my dreams don’t feel… like _this_ , it has to be real.

In my dreams, he doesn’t cling to my shoulder and hip like that, forcing me to stay down -though really, I have no desire whatsoever to pull away from him. In my dreams, he doesn’t make those lovely, breathy sounds when I stop kissing him to breathe -fuck needing air honestly, why do I have to breathe when I could be _kissing Baz Pitch_. In my dreams, his pupils aren’t blown like that, so much so that there’s only a thin line of grey left around them.

In my dreams he never seemed to like it that fucking much.

This is so much better than my dreams.

I shift, and he bloody _moans_ when my thigh rubs his crotch. Holy fucking shit. I actually made Baz Pitch moan. I can die in peace now.

I do it again, pressing my leg against him harder. He whimpers against my lips, closing his eyes, and it’s so fucking hot, I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to see this.

God, how did I not realize I was attracted to him before? I wasted so much time hating him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I tell him when my lips aren’t busy with his anymore.

He doesn’t answer anything, but a sigh escapes his lips and I feel his grip on me tighten, pulling me even closer -if that’s even possible. Almost every inch of my body touches his and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough. 

Once he’s satisfied with our position, his hand moves from shoulder to my neck so that he can push my head down to give me a bruising kiss. Up until now he wasn’t doing much of the kissing, simply going with what I was doing -I think it’s because he was afraid his fangs might pop if he got carried away- but now he’s the one leading it, it’s his pace, his way. 

I’m not mad at it.

I feel his tongue on my lip, and then on my teeth, and I get the message so I open my mouth a bit more and let his tongue lick into it.

We’re snogging now, I suppose.

Aggie and I never did. We didn’t do much kissing to begin with, and it was always just our lips. There was some biting when I was feeling more adventurous but we never properly snogged.

It’s a strange sensation, honestly, but I don’t dislike it. 

I notice that he doesn’t taste like anything, kind of like water, you know? He doesn’t smell of anything either, once the cedar and bergamot scent of his posh products wears off. I wonder if it’s because he’s… dead, or whatever it is that he is.

I don’t like thinking that he’s dead, because he most definitely isn’t, but _technically_ vampires aren’t alive either. 

**…**

**Baz**

When Snow pulls away to breathe -an inconvenience, if you ask me- there’s a thin line of spit that links his and my lips and I almost faint at the sight of it, before he licks it away and holy shit I’m definitely going to faint now. 

He’s so fucking hot. I’m not even sure he realizes how sexy everything he does is. Or maybe it’s just that I’m disturbed. It may very well be that. I don’t think normal people go crazy over _saliva._

I have to get a grip on myself. I have to get a grip on _this situation_ before it gets out of hand.

“Snow I think we should talk.”

“I don’t want to _talk_ ,” he whines, his lips hovering over mine.

He’s a menace.

“I’m serious Snow. Besides, it’s late, we should go to bed soon, so let’s put an end to the snogging for now and have a talk.”

He’s clearly not pleased with that, but he still rolls over so that he isn’t on top of me anymore. I turn on my side to look at him. 

His cheeks are red, his lips swollen, and his eyes shiny with arousal. He is a vision, really. It takes all of my self-control to keep my hands and lips off him.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asks, looking back at me.

“Are you sure about this boyfriend thing?”

He frowns “What do you mean?”

“This. Us. Are you sure about it? You told me you were not sure you were into blokes and now you’re kissing me. If this is just you experimenting, it’s fine, I’m okay with helping you explore your sexuality, but tell me if that’s what’s happening.” 

I can’t let you make me believe you want me as your boyfriend if you don’t really mean it, love. The fall will hurt too much if you let me down.

He pushes himself up on his elbows to look down at me, something like hurt in his eyes. “Why would you think that?”

“Confused blokes leading gay men on to experiment with gay sex and then dumping them because they’re straight isn’t unheard of. At all. I’m just trying to make sure this is not what’s happening. As I’ve told you, I’m perfectly fine with it just being a sex thing.” But fuck I wish it isn’t. I’d be over the moon just to shag him, of course, but if it could be more than that… It’d be the most beautiful thing that could ever happen to me. “But don’t go around throwing the word boyfriend if you don’t mean it. I’m not that difficult a bloke, you don’t have to pretend to want to date me if you just want to fuck me.”

I sound so cold when I say it. I hate myself. Even more when he looks at me like I’ve just insulted him.

I just don’t want to get hurt.

I’ve loved him for too long to allow myself to have any doubt that he isn’t serious about this. 

“Fuck Baz what kind of arsehole do you think I am? I wouldn’t have asked you to be my boyfriend if I just wanted sex. So yes, I’m fucking serious about this, you bastard.” He spits the word in my face, and I regret everything I’ve said.

I don’t want him to be angry. I don’t want him to be hurt.

But I _had_ to know.

“Okay. Good. I just… I’m sorry but I don’t want my first relationship to be an illusion,” I admit, letting myself fall back on my back.

It’s better to look at the moulding on my ceiling than at him. 

“First? So you’ve _never_ been with someone?” he asks, stupefaction in his voice.

“Yeah, that’s what first implies. That it hasn’t happened before. You were my first kiss as well, by the way.”

**…**

**Simon**

Okay what?

You mean to tell me that someone who looks like Baz has never been in a relationship? Never even _kissed_ anyone? 

No, he must be kidding me.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m really not,” he sighs. “I was never really interested in dating. I had my eyes set on this boy, you know…”

Shit is there someone else? A bloke Baz likes? Why did I not think of asking that _before_ I kissed him and… everything else. I’m such a fucking moron.

**…**

**Baz**

“Oh…” he says, sounding… disappointed?

Does this idiot not realize that I’m talking about him?

Merlin and Morgana he is so bloody stupid.

“Snow. I’m talking about you, you absolute nightmare. It’s always been you.”

“Really?” he asks, with a soft voice, like a child.

He’ll be the death of me. I’m such a fool for loving him that much.

I sit up, and wave at him to make him understand that I want him to sit too. He does, and I take his hands in mine. A smile grows on his face.

“I’ve… _liked_ you for so long.” I can’t drop the word love just now. It’s _much_ too soon. “I’ve realized it in fifth year, because I realized that I was attracted to you, physically, but I think that those feelings had been there for much longer than that.”

His eyes are sparkling like I just gave him the most wonderful of presents. He’s beautiful. 

“So you like me? You actually, really like me? And you want to be my boyfriend. Because you like me.”

“Yes. Yes to all of that,” I tell him, my voice much softer than it should ever be. I can’t help it. He turns me into a pathetic, romantic fool.

“Good,” he says, letting go of my hands to cup my face. It reminds me of how he held me when he kissed me in our room before I left for my trial. “Because I like you too, Baz. A lot.”

And then his lips are on mine and I don’t think.

So much for putting an end to the snogging.

It’s all Snow’s fault honestly. He was the one who kissed me even after I said we should stop doing that. I can’t possibly push him away once again, right? Especially after he told me he liked me.

Crowley, it’s not love but it’s so much more than I ever thought I’d get from him, I could cry.

_Simon Snow likes me._

Maybe life doesn’t hate me that much.

**…**

It’s more than half an hour of messy kissing and over-the-clothes touching and staring into each other’s eyes that I eventually tell Snow to stop. It’s not really that I want to, but I’m so exhausted my eyes are closing by themselves and I’ve yawned a couple of times, in between kisses. And to think that I went up to my room to _rest._

“I’m sorry but I really have to go to bed now,” I tell him as he pulls away.

“You’re in bed,” Snow answers, a playful smile on his face.

I love him so much.

I roll my eyes at him “You know what I mean. You’ve already kept me awake for much more hours than you should have. I’m gonna be knackered tomorrow when my sisters will wake us up at the crack of down.”

“Oh, they do that?” he laughs.

“They do. It’s the worst fucking thing. But I’m not allowed to lock my door.”

“You’re 18, Basil, surely you can disobey your dad. You did when you told him I’d be sleeping in your room, which I’m not complaining about, though,” he says, pecking me on the lips

It’s so sweet I could die. 

“The problem is that it’s an order from _Daphne_ and as good and kind as she is, she’s scary when she’s mad. I don’t want her to get mad at me, so I’m not going to cross her. Besides, I think my father would send you to the next train back to school if you slept in my room _and_ the door was locked and I’d rather avoid that situation. So I’m not locking the door. No one comes in without knocking anyway, except for the little ones, and they’ve got better things to do than pestering me most of the time.”

“Your dad lets Daphne give you orders?” he asks curiously.

“Yes, of course. She’s the one ordering people around in this house. Father just sits back and glares at you disapprovingly when you do something to disappoint him. Why?”

“I mean, she’s not… your mum.”

“She’s not, no, but she’s the closest thing I have to one. Father… he calls her ‘your mother’ when he talks to me about her. Well except if my aunt Fiona is around because she’d throw a tantrum about how Daphne is not and will never be my mother. And I don’t mind that, Father calling her my mother. I… She married my father when I was 9, and she’s been around ever since, taking care of me as well as she could, which honestly must have been very hard at first. I was awful to her at the beginning, when she moved in here, because since I spent so much time with Fiona, _listening_ to Fiona, I saw Daphne as someone who was trying to take my mum’s place, but now I know that it’s really not the case. She just loves my father very much and wants to be part of his, and by association, my, life. She doesn’t pretend to have the same place as my mother’s ; she wants _her_ place. Anyway, I’m rambling, but basically, Daphne treats me well, and she’s never disrespectful to my mother’s memory, so I don’t mind her acting a bit like she was my mother, ordering me to or not to do certain things. It’s a mutual thing, you see? She’s good to me, I’m good to her.”

Snow nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “You like her a lot, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. I’m lucky my father married a woman like that and not someone who would have despised me because I was the child from another marriage. Anyway, get off of me, I have to go change, and you should too,” I tell him, my hands sliding to his chest to push him away gently.

He complies, after giving me another kiss, and I finally get out of bed. I walk to grab his bag, and turn back to him. He’s sitting in the middle of my bed, his clothes a little bit undone and his hair messier than usual. It’s a lovely sight. “Do you have pyjamas in that bag or do you need me to give you one of mine?” 

“Well, I have taken some but if you offer to let me sleep in those fancy pyjamas of yours, I’m not going to say no,” he says with a grin.

“Very well,” I answer, feigning annoyance even though deep inside, I’m bloody excited about seeing him in one of my, quote unquote ‘fancy pyjamas’.

I walk to my wardrobe, take two pyjamas, and throw the one I chose for him at Snow “It’s too small for me, so it should fit you. You know, since you’re short.”

“I’m not short, you’re just too tall, you prick,” he groans as he catches it.

He doesn’t like it when I tease him about his height. He _hates_ that he’s shorter than me.

“Sounds like something a short person would say,” I shoot back before entering the adjacent.

It’s much bigger than the one Snow and I share at school, and I can’t wait to see his reactions when he’ll see how luxurious it is. Everything in this house is luxurious. 

Once there’s a door separating me from him, the magic evaporates a little, bringing me back to a reality, but not an unpleasant one, for once.

Simon Snow asked me to be his boyfriend.

Simon Snow kissed me senseless, and he seemed to enjoy it. 

Simon Snow told me he liked me _a lot_.

I’m living a charmed life.

I can’t believe this morning I was crying because of my upcoming trial. Today was a rollercoaster, to say the least. 

I walk to the mirror and look at myself. My hair is a mess, my shirt is all wrinkled and one button has somehow been undone without me or Snow actually undoing it, and my lips are _pink,_ and not just a faint shade like how they get when I’m anxious and bite them a lot _._ That’s how much Snow kissed me.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I hope Snow at least enjoyed the view. I know that _I_ enjoyed seeing him looking all dishevelled.

I want to see how debauched I could make him look. I want to see him panting and moaning my name, I want to see the black of his pupil replace this lovely blue I cherish, I want to see him all sweaty and red-faced, I want…

I have to stop.

It’s already a miracle I didn’t get a hard on when we were snogging, I’m not going to stupidly get one now. _Simon Snow_ is waiting for me in the room I can’t waste any more time in the bathroom.

I stop admiring the state he put me in, and undress quickly, not even paying attention to fold my clothes. I put my pyjama trousers on, wash the gel off my hair, leaving it a little wet, which I don’t really enjoy but my wand is on the room and I’m not about to blow dry it, then I put my pyjama top on and _finally_ leave the en suite. 

Snow is still sitting on my bed, but this time he’s wearing my pyjamas. They look good on him, the dark blue suits him.

“This thing is so soft,” he tells me, rubbing his arm.

“It’s silk, Snow. Of course it’s soft.” I walk to the bed, and climb on it on the side I prefer.

Snow is sitting in the middle, so he just has to move a bit on the side I’m not to take his place, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at me, his gaze interrogative.

“What?”

“Do I have to go on the couch or can I… can I sleep with you?” His whole face turns red. Bloody moron. “I mean sleep in your bed, not… you know,” he says with a nervous laugh.

He’s such a beautiful mess.

“Yes, Snow, you can sleep in my bed. But aren’t you going to overheat, with the top on? I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep in anything else than trousers or pants in years.”

“You know Basil, if you want to see me shirtless, you can just ask,” he says with a smirk, but he unbuttons his top nonetheless, exposing his broad shoulders and muscular chest, his tawny skin and his ocean of moles.

“You’re staring.” There’s amusement in his voice, just as much as in his eyes when they fall on me.

I think that even my vampirism can’t hide my blush this time. “You’re very… attractive.”

“Oh, am I now?”

“Don’t fish for compliments and lie down so that I can turn the lights off without risking you falling off the bed as you move or something.”

“Fuck off.”

That’s usually what he says when he has nothing to answer.

He lies above the covers, on his side to face me. I let him look at me as I turn the lights off with a spell and put my wand on the bedside table. Now I’m the only one who can see clearly. 

“Baz,” he says as I push the covers up to my neck.

“Yes?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I… You didn’t eat tonight and I… I noticed that you don’t eat much in general. Is it anorexia?”

Merlin, this boy.

“I don’t have an eating disorder, Snow. I do eat, I just don’t like doing it with an audience, which is why you don’t see me eat often.”

“But tonight you didn’t eat at all. I have been with you since we arrived, except right now when you changed.”

“Skipping a meal isn’t going to kill me. I don’t need to eat as much as a normal person.”

“You sure?” he asks, obviously concerned. “Cause if you have a problem with food you can tell me and… and you have to get help.”

He’s so caring. The world doesn’t deserve Simon Snow. _I_ don’t deserve Simon Snow.

“I promise I’m fine, Snow. Don’t worry,” I tell him, reaching to squeeze his hand.

He smiles at that.

“Hm, okay, I believe you. But I want to see you eat a full meal tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes. “If you want.”

He knows I’m a vampire, anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t matter too much if he sees my fangs. I just hope it won’t disgust him by reminding him what kind of monster I am.

“Thanks. Good night, Baz.” He raises my hand that’s holding his to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles.

I intertwine my fingers with his. It’s not a comfortable position to sleep, but I wouldn’t care less. “Good night, Snow.”


	28. Chapter Twenty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon has breakfast with Baz’s family, without Baz. It’s awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I allowed myself another relaxed chapter before things go down again

**Simon**

Where the fuck am I?

I don’t know this place. 

Wait there’s someone holding my hand.

Oh.

Baz.

I’m at Baz’s place.

I’m with Baz.

I’m safe.

I wait until my heart doesn’t beat as fast to let go of Baz’s hand and get out of bed. I don’t want to wake him up, but I don’t want to lie there doing nothing while he sleeps either, so I’d better leave the room.

There’s a little bit of light filtering through the blinds, so I can find the pyjama top he’d given me easily, and put it on without messing the order of the buttons. Then, I turn around to look at Baz for a second. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. He rarely ever looks like that.

I notice that the covers have slided down his body, covering him up to his waist but not his arms -which is probably my fault since I slept over the covers. It’s not hot at all in this room -he’s got a fireplace but he didn’t light it last night-, he’s going to be cold. Carefully, I take the edge of the covers and pull it until his entire body is underneath it, except for his head and the arm that had reached out to hold my hand. That’s better.

He shifts slightly when I move the covers, but he doesn’t wake up.

I make sure to be as silent as possible as I walk out of the room. Closing the door is a challenge ; it’s heavy and it creaks when you move it, but I manage it.

Thankfully, Baz’s room isn’t lost somewhere too deep inside the manor, so I don’t have too much trouble finding my way to the room where we had dinner last night. His entire family is there already, having breakfast. Even the baby is here this time, on her mother’s lap. They’re all still in their pyjamas, except for Mr Grimm, who’s already wearing a three piece suit similar to the one he wore yesterday, but in a different colour. How people wear this around their house is beyond me, but Baz’s father does seem to be the type to do that. I wonder if his stepmum will also put on fancy clothes like what she was wearing yesterday or if she’ll choose something more casual. It’s the bloody weekend, after all.

“Hello, I say standing near the table a bit awkwardly. I don’t know if I should sit or not. Yesterday I was with Baz so it was easy. I just followed him and did whatever he did or told me to do, but right now he’s not with me. 

“Hello, Mr Snow,” Mrs Grimm tell me

“Simon. Uh, I mean, please call me Simon.”

Crowley, Baz leaves me alone for five minutes and I make a fool of myself. Great.

“Simon then,” she says with a smile. “Please sit down and help yourself with some food,” she adds, waving at the table.

There’s a platter with bread and toast on it, different kinds of spreads, butter, applesauce, three boxes of cereals, bottles of milk and juice (orange -that seems to have been pressed this morning, not bought in a shop- and apple), and a coffee pot. 

Is this what they have on their table for breakfast every day? Fuck, it must really be nice being rich.

I sit where I sat yesterday, next to Ophelia -I think it’s Ophelia. 

“Where’s Baz?” Mordelia asks, looking right at me. 

“He’s still sleeping.”

She rolls her eyes, in a way that really reminds me of her brother, even though the two of them don’t really look like each other. “He always sleeps so late.”

“It’s still soon.” I shrug. “But you’re right, he does sleep late. It’s annoying at school. I wake up early, so I have to be super careful because he’s grumpy if I wake him up when I get out of the room.”

That makes her giggle. It’s so easy with kids. I love how cheerful they are.

“He’s _always_ grumpy. I don’t know why you’re friends with him,” she comments before putting a spoonful of cereals in her mouth.

“He’s not that bad when he isn’t being grumpy.”

“Which is never.”

This time I’m the one who laughs. I really like this little girl. 

Seamlessly, she goes back to eating her breakfast, not talking to me anymore.

I decide to focus on my own breakfast then, grabbing two pieces of toast and the stick of butter. I notice that the toasts are just as warm as if they had just been grilled. They must have a spell on them, like the food at Watford.

I eat in silence. It seems to be how it’s done here. Baz and I were the only one talking at dinner yesterday. Maybe it’s because they’re not barbarians, as Baz would say, and don’t talk when they’ve got food in their mouth. I tried not to do that too much yesterday because I didn’t want to disgust Baz’s parents -and because it’s humiliating to have less manners than little children- but meals where I can’t talk remind me of the care homes and it makes me feel uncomfortable. 

The moment I’m done eating, I hear Mrs Grimm say “Ophelia, honey, could you please go wake Baz up? Tell him Simon is waiting.”

“Ophelia wake up Baz. Simon waiting,” the girl next to me says. 

“That’s it,” Mrs Grimm answers softly as Ophelia hops from her chair, running out of the room. 

Her two sisters are still eating, and Mrs Grimm is holding the baby, that’s probably why she asked her to go. Well, at least I’m not the one having to do it, I guess.

I wonder if he’ll dress up before coming down. I hope not. I’d love to see Baz Pitch walking around his house in his pyjamas.

The silence gets really awkward now. When I was eating it was fine, I just focused on my food, but now I feel trapped here. Ophelia is gone waking Baz up, telling him I’m waiting, I can’t leave. Besides it’d be rude to do so without being told to. But the sound the pages of the newspaper make when Mr Grimm turn them, the cooing of the baby, and the chewing noises of Mordelia and Cordelia are driving me mad.

Why don’t these people bloody talk?

If they’re not going to, I will. I clear my throat “I’d like to thank you again for letting me come here this weekend. I understand that you’re probably not thrilled about it, and I’m grateful you’d agree despite our… differences.”

“It would have been difficult to refuse Basil anything after his trial,” Mr Grimm mumbles.

He’s not happy I’m here, got it. Mrs Grimm puts her hand on his arm, as if to tell him to be more amiable.

“It’s always a pleasure to have Baz’s friends over,” she tells me. “He so very rarely asks for such a thing.” 

“Not that we knew the two of you were friends until yesterday,” Baz’s father says, putting his newspaper down to look at me. “Tell me, Mr Snow, how long have you two been friends? Last I heard of you, Basil didn’t like you much.”

I feel myself blush. Nice, Baz told his family he hated me.

“It’s a recent development. We… We became friends this year. School year, I mean”

Mr Grimm’s eyes feel like a laser beam, burning me where they’re fixed on me. 

“Father, please don’t embarrass my guest.”

My hero. My eyes fly to Baz and I melt when I see him. He’s still wearing his pyjamas, but that’s not even the detail that gets me. No, what really warms my heart, it’s seeing him carry Ophelia in his arms.

Is it okay to want kids with a bloke you kissed for the first time the day before?

**...**

**Baz**

I wake up when I feel someone pulling my eyelid. “Baz. Baz wake up.”

I jerk up, and see big brown eyes and pigtails instead of blue eyes and brown curls. “Crowley, Ophelia,” I groan, pushing her little hand away. “Leave me alone.”

“Mummy said,” she answers.

“What did mummy say?”

“Mummy said Baz wake up.” She’s frowning a little bit, focusing on her words. Sentences are hard for her to make.

“She told you to come wake me up?”

She nods, making her pigtails fly as she moves her head. It’s adorable. “Yes. Mummy said Simon waiting.”

That particular comment gets my attention. Snow. I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t here, but now that Ophelia said it, I can see that the other side of the bed is empty. Did this idiot leave the room without me? Does he want to _die_?

I knew he had no survival instinct whatsoever but facing my family alone, that’s a new kind of idiocy. He never ceases to amaze me.

Though, it seems to be very -too- early, so they’re probably eating breakfast right now. If so, he should be relatively safe. The girls shouldn’t pester him if they’re too busy stuffing their mouths with their cereals, and Father never really talks, so I doubt he’d say a word to Snow. Maybe Daphne, full of good intentions, tried chatting with him, but Snow is a moron who can’t keep a conversation going to save his life, and he’s even more awkward with adults, so it probably failed pathetically. 

“Come on,” Ophelia says, pulling on the sleeve of my top. 

Impatient little thing.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming.”

I get out of bed and turn around quickly enough to scoop her up before she can run away. She burst out laughing when I hold her over my head, spinning in place, which makes the skirt of her night dress spin too.

It’s such a pretty sound. Crowley, I missed this kid. And the other ones. 

Her shoulders are still shaking with laughter when I secure her against my chest, her little arms coming to circle my neck by themselves. She buries her head on the crook of my neck, and her sweet, baby smell fills my nostrils. Daphne still uses the baby shampoo when she washes the twins. I think it’s because she likes smelling their hair when she carries them like that too.

Technically, Ophelia and Cordelia are old enough not to be carried, they’ve walked for over a year now, but they still like it sometimes. But then again, even Mordelia has her times when she jumps on me and demands that I carry her -to then drop her on the sofa, but still to carry her- so I suppose I can’t blame the little ones for wanting that. 

My sister stays in my arms as I walk down the corridor and then the stairs to go to the dinning room. As expected, my family and Snow are here, but my Father is talking to Snow? 

And this idiot is all red-faced.

“Father, please don’t embarrass my guest,” I say, bringing everyone’s attention on me.

Snow looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, taking in the -rather ridiculous, in my opinion- sight of me carrying Ophelia, still in my pyjamas. It does strange things to my heart.

“I’m not embarrassing him, simply asking questions.”

“Well, ask your questions to me. Snow is a mess, no one should listen to him when he talks.”

“You’re always so nice to me, Baz. I’m touched, really,” Snow says.

I glare at him, not impressed, before I put Ophelia down and go sit next to Mordy.

“So,” I say, crossing my legs, resting my chin on my hands as I look at my father. “What were you asking Snow?”

“I was simply wondering for how long the two of you have been… friends.” He says the word ‘friends’ with an edge to it, which confirms once and for all that my parents didn’t buy what I told them and that they believe Snow and I are dating. I mean, technically, they’re right. Now we are dating. But we weren’t yesterday when we picked him up at Watford, or during the car ride, or at dinner. 

“Not long. Not that it matters, it doesn’t make it any less real, does it?”

“No, of course not,” Father says as he stands up from his chair. “Could your mother and I have a word with you tonight? There’s something we’d like to talk to you about. It’s nothing to worry about, but I have to leave now so it must be done tonight.”

Oh.

They’re going to ask about Snow, right? What else could it be.

Life hates me. I hate life. 

If there’s one person I don’t want to talk about my and Snow’s relationship to, it’s my father.

Nonetheless, I nod. “Very well. But why do you have to go now? It’s saturday morning.”

If he has to work on the weekends, he does it from home. 

“Coven meeting. We’re still working on Miss Hale’s case, and there’s a lot to be done.”

I glance at Snow, and see that he looks a little paler than he did before, and that his eyes are silently pleading for me to get him out of here.

“Oh, okay. Well, then, I’ll see you tonight.”

**…**

Once my father is gone, I have no qualms leaving the room. Daphne won’t take offense, and Snow needs it. It’s only when we’re back in my bedroom that he seems to relax, hunching his back a little as he lets out a deep breath. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, clasping his shoulder.

He gives me a weak smile, but a true one. “Yes. I’m just never going downstairs without you ever again.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Kind of, honestly. It was just… suffocating. No one was talking, and then when I tried to say something your dad started talking about you and I being friends and I felt like he was questioning me and yeah that wasn’t great.”

“I’m sorry. I think my parents have understood that there is… something going on between us, so my father was probably trying to see if it was anything serious or if we were just fucking, I guess.”

And he’s blushing again. Crowley, he blushes so much. It’s so easy to make him flustered. 

“Oh…”

“But you didn’t understand that, obviously.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You beautiful disaster,” I say with a laugh, that gets muffled by his curls when I kiss the top of his head.

I don’t know if I’m allowed to do that, but he’s my boyfriend now after all, and he doesn’t seem to mind, so I suppose it’s okay. 

“And so… When you talked to your dad just now Do you think he understood that we are… you know… dating?”

“I’m pretty sure he did. That’s most likely what he wants to talk to me about tonight. I’d think it’s to tell me how disappointed he is and how dating _you_ in particular is an insult to my bloodline, but he said Daphne would be here too and he wouldn’t say anything like that in front of her, she’s too protective. So I suppose that he doesn’t mind… _us_ too much. But let’s not push our luck. I think we should refrain from doing any… touching when my parents are around. Well, especially my father. I know that you can’t keep your hands to yourself, but I don’t want my father to get pissed if he see you resting your hand on my arm or something, okay? I want the weekend to go as smoothly as possible.”

“Got it,” he says before giving me a wink, because he’s an idiot. “No angering Baz’s dad. No touching near Baz’s dad. But,” he adds, holding my arm and pulling me closer to him, chest to chest. “Your dad isn’t here now, is he? So I _can_ touch you, right?”

If I ever complained about Snow being handsy, I take that back. I _love_ that he’s fond of physical contact. “I suppose you can.”

“Good.”

And he grabs my arse.

Well I can’t say I was expecting that, but I’m certainly not complaining. His other hand is on my neck in an instant, pressing on it to force my head down enough for him to kiss me. 

Soon, without really knowing how it happened, I’m pinned to the wall as Snow kisses me like it’s the end of the word. He’s playing with the hair at the base of my neck absentmindedly as he lick into my mouth, and there’s such a huge contrast between this soft touch and the way he’s kneading my arse, I’m confused in the best of ways.

I like this, the tenderness and the urgency. 

But we didn’t come here this weekend to snog. We have something to do, something _important_ so I push him away. I feel like it’s all I’ve done since we kissed for the second time, yesterday night, but it’s not my fault that I keep a functioning brain when Snow is too busy feeling me up to remember that snogging me isn’t supposed to be his sole activity. 

“Please quit groping me, we have better things to do.”

“Better than this? I doubt so,” he answers with a smirk. For once, it works on him. Maybe knowing that he can turn me to jelly with just a brush of his tongue inside my mouth gives him a new confidence when he’s with me. I like it. I like the Snow who blushed and stubbles on his words, but I also like this cockier version of him.

I love all versions of Snow. I love _him_.

“Okay, maybe not better, but definitely more crucial. So stop trying to make me merge with you, or the wall, and go put some clothes on so that we can go to my mother’s office. Don’t wear something too hot, I’ll light a fire, you’ll overheat if you wear something thick.”

“You and your fire,” he rolls his eyes.

“I don’t produce body heat, Snow. I need exterior heat, and fire happens to be good at providing that, so I am going to wear something warm and light a fire, and you are going to wear something light. I don’t want you to stink of sweat.”

“You know, if the problem is heat, I could warm you up,” he says suggestively, putting his warm hand on mine to prove his point.

He is a nuisance. A menace. An absolute nightmare. I’m a fool for loving him like I do.

“Tss, I said no more groping. Stop being annoying and go change.”

“Yes, Sir,” he says, blowing me a kiss.

Crowley, I despise him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Americans among you, my heart goes to you. I hope that there will be a change in who’s in the office, for the sake of every person living in your country. Please stay safe, especially if you live in place where riots are most likely to happen when the results get out.


	29. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They FINALLY look for information about Lucy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding a chapter now is a stupid idea because I haven’t written enough to do that yet but I’m excited about this chapter and did not want to wait until tonight to post, so here I am
> 
> fun fact : this should have been like the 5th or 6th chapter of the story if I hadn’t had the *brilliant* idea of adding plot lines I never planned (I wasn’t supposed to write so much about Simon’s mission, and Baz’s trial was NEVER planned it just happened)
> 
> fun fact 2 : I just wrote half of a chapter instead of paying attention in literature class because FUCK MACBETH

**Baz**

“Why are you wearing bloody dress pants. It’s the weekend and we’re just going to look for old stuff,” Snow comments as he leaves the en suite and sees me waiting for him. 

“For the aesthetic,” I answer, deadpan. He snorts.

“God, you’re such a narcissistic prick.”

“What else is new?”

I cross the room until I’m in front of him, the shirt and cardigan I intend to wear folded over my arm. Right now I’m only wearing a short sleeved top and I’m _cold_ , I need to get to the bathroom and get fully dressed, but Snow is still leaning against the frame of the door.

“I have to go admire myself and put on some more clothes, move.”

“ _Narcissistic prick_ ,” he says again, stressing the words, but he moves out of the way nonetheless. “But Baz!” he adds, as I’m about to close the door. I open it again. 

“What?”

“Could you… uh… let your hair loose? And like… not put any of that hair gel you always wear in it. I… I just think you look really pretty with your hair down.” Ah, the blushing and stuttering Snow is back. “But I mean it’s your hair so you do what you want of course but yeah I… I like it a lot like that.”

I’m never slicking my hair back ever again.

“I’ll see what I do,” I tell him with a smirk before really closing the door this time.

First of all, I put my shirt and cardigan on before I freeze. I’m dressed all in black, except for the pink and green of the flowery pattern on my shirt -which I didn’t button up completely, of course. 

Now my hair. I hope it will cooperate. I’m fine with letting it down if Snow likes that, but I don’t want to look a mess.

I brush it carefully, separating it in the middle and watching the way it falls around my face. Not bad. That’ll do. Snow will probably ruin it the moment he’ll throw himself at me like the brute he is to kiss me anyway.

Maybe that’s why he likes my hair loose. He can mess it up as much as he wants.

Though, now that I’m looking at myself, I have to admit that when it’s brushed properly, it does look better than it does when I slick it back. It’s less practical, it’ll probably be in my face all day, but it’s at least nice to look at. 

I brush my teeth and spray myself with perfume, and then I’m good to go. Snow might not even make a comment about the time I spent in the bathroom, I was rather quick today.

But apparently he has the patience of a child because the moment I step out, I hear him say “Finally!”

And then he freezes when he sees me. 

I smirk. That’s good. That’s very good.

“Wow, you’re beautiful,” he compliments me under his breath, his eyes going up and down my body. 

Even I must admit it’s a bit uncomfortable being checked out like that, though very flattering. 

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. But I did tell you to put something not too hot and you’re wearing a button up shirt. You never listen, do you?”

“Well, the thing is I don’t have anything else,” he answers, a faint pink tint on his cheeks. “I don’t own any t-shirt except for the one I was wearing when I left care this summer and I decided to take better clothes to come to your place so… That’s all I have.”

“You idiot. You should have told me. Let’s find you something,” I say, already walking towards my wardrobe.

Couldn’t the Mage fucking buy him clothes? Not much, just a couple of shirts and some pairs of jeans, it’d have been enough, and the bastard leaves alone and at Watford, he doesn’t have much expenses. But yet he couldn’t spare a few hundred pounds to buy the kids he’s technically the legal guardian of some clothes? That’s such bullshit.

“You don’t have to, it’s fine,” Snow mumbles.

I think he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t have to be embarrassed. It’s not his fault he doesn’t have money.

“I want to. I told you I don’t want you all sweaty. Besides, I’d like to see you in my clothes.” 

I turn around to give him a smile, hoping it’ll make him feel less uneasy.

“Hurry up or I’m choosing the shirt.”

“Go on, choose it. Find something you think would look good on me.”

Anything would look on you, love. 

I do have a shirt I’d like to see him wear, though. It’s a pretty olive green colour that I think would look wonderful with his complexion. 

I bring it to him. “Here.”

“I expected something more…” He waves in my general direction. “Dramatic.”

“First of all, my outfit isn’t dramatic. Second, I do own basic, plain clothes. Stop commenting on my fashion sense and change your shirt.”

**…**

I was right, the green looks great on him.

**...**

“Where are you going?” Mordy asks, looking at Snow and I suspiciously as we pass by her.

“In my mother’s office.”

She frowns. “Dad said no one is allowed to go there.” 

“I am. Father knows I’m going there. It’s not because your parents forbid _you_ things that they forbid them to me too.”

“Um. I don’t believe you. Mum! Muuuuuuuuum!” 

And she’s gone, running to Daphne, I suppose. She’s going to be disappointed when her mother tells her that Snow and I are, in fact, allowed to go there. 

When I turn at Snow, I see that he’s grinning. “I love that kid,” he says under his breath.

“She’s annoying. Come on let’s go before she comes bothering us again.”

With that, I start walking again, Snow following.

“You know I’m starting to think that you show your affection for people by insulting them, Basil.”

“No. That’s stupid. You’re stupid.”

He chuckles, and I feel one of his arms circling my waist, pulling me closer to his side. “I like you too.”

“Who said I liked you?”

“I’m pretty sure you did. You told me you’ve known you liked me since fifth year, if I remember well,” he says, smugness in his voice.

Not long ago I would have thought it was because he thought it was pathetic, that I pinned for him for so long. But now I think he’s just glad to know that I like him. 

I pretend not to know what he’s talking about, though, because I can’t make things easy for him, can I? “I don’t remember that, you must have dreamt it.

“Yeah, sure. I also dreamt all the snogging that went before and after that heartfelt admission then I guess.” He sighs dramatically. I’m pretty sure he learnt that from me. “Pity, it was really good snogging.”

“Was it? We’ll have to do it again later, see if it refreshes my memory,” I say, glancing at him long enough to see the amused gleam in his eyes.

“Hey, that’s a good idea.”

“All of my ideas are good ideas, Snow. Now get off of me,” I tell him as we arrive in front of the door. It’s at the very end of a corridor, and one of the rooms the further away from the entrance hall. My mother liked her peace, I suppose. “I have to grab the key.”

Snow detangles his arm from around me. “Where is it?”

“Here,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to find the little hatch in the wall where the key is hidden.

“Hiding a key in the wall? You people are so extra.” I can almost hear his eyes roll as I put the key inside the lock. 

I turn it, and open the door before putting the key in my pocket. “At least it’s hard to find it, and the little ones can’t put their hands on it.”

“Would it be such a big deal if one of them came here?”

“Yes. It’s my mother’s stuff ; everything Father kept after she died is here. It… It’s all we have left of her.”

I feel his hand in mine, warm and comforting, before I see him next to me.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay being here?” he asks, his voice soft. “We don’t have to do this, I’m pretty sure we won’t find anything anyway.”

“Snow. No. I will be fine, and we will find someone. You’ve never seen me fail at anything, have you? If I start looking for information about your mother I will find information about your mother. Now let’s get to work. You take this cabinet, I take the one on the other side of the room. The photo albums are black, the width of two notebooks, and they should all be in the same place, so search for a pile of black books.”

He listens carefully when I speak, his eyes travelling around the round until they fall on the cabinet I want him to look through. “Do I get a reward if I find them before you?” he asks once I’m done talking, looking at me through his eyelashes.

I think Simon Snow turned into some sort of sex demon after our first kiss. Or maybe he was always that horny, but I’m only finding out now. Either way, I’m delighted. 

He doesn’t make it easy for me to control myself, though. All I want is to take him back to my room and keep him prisoner in my bed for the whole weekend.

“Well, I suppose the only way to find out is to find them before me, isn’t it?”

I don’t think Snow has ever been this motivated to do anything.

**…**

“Baz? It’s not the album we’re looking for but I found one you might want to see. There are pictures of your parents and baby pictures of you.”

“Keep it on the side, I’ll look at it later.”

“You sure? The research can wait.”

“Snow, I know you’re pessimistic about this, but I know we’ll find something about your mum. I won’t stop until I do.”

**…**

“I found them! I think. Let me open one to be sure, though,” Simon says, breaking the peaceful silence in the room. 

It’s only been 30 minutes since we arrived here. I’m a bit surprised he’d find the albums so quickly, but it’s Snow after all. He never does what you expect him to.

I turn around to look at him as he opens the album, and immediately, he turns it around to show me that it indeed contains group pictures of students.

“I found them!” he says again, more excitedly. There’s a happy gleam in his eyes. 

Good. At least it shows that he doesn’t believe that we won’t find anything anymore. It was very strange to see Snow be pessimistic, but I can understand why he was. He probably didn’t want to get his hopes high in case we actually didn’t find anything, so he convinced himself that we wouldn’t.

“Let’s sit somewhere more comfortable than on the floor to look through them, then,” I tell him as I push myself up in one swift motion.

I walk to Snow, giving him my hand to help him on his feet. He’s clumsy, and with the albums in his arms there’s a 70% chance he’d fall on his arse if he tried to go back up on his own. 

“Thanks,” he says once he’s standing in front of me, his hand still in mine. 

He isn’t going to let it go, is he? I hope he isn’t. I love holding hands with him. It’s so soft, so domestic. It’s something I never thought would happen, even in the most ridiculously romantic of my dreams.

Making the most of our joined hands, I drag him to the couch and pull him on it in a way that makes him fall half on my lap. He seems to understand what I’m doing, because he lets go of my hand, only to sling it around my neck. He puts the albums he’s holding on his other hand down on the empty space behind him, and then he’s on me, his knees on either sides of my thighs. “I want my reward now, Basil.”

“I don’t remember telling you you’d have a reward,” I answer, feigning boredom. 

“No but I said I’d have one.” His right hand trails along my chest, until it settles on my neck, his thumb brushing my jaw. He leans down until his lips are only a breath away from mine. “I know you want to give me my reward.”

Of course I want, you fucking nightmare.

But I can’t give in that easily. Where’s the fun if he doesn’t work for it.

“No I don’t. Besides, I should be the one who gets a reward for putting up with how fucking annoying you are.”

Suddenly his face isn’t facing mine anymore, but on the side of my face, his voice in my ear as he whispers. “Come on, Basil, be good to me. I just want to kiss my very attractive boyfriend.”

Bastard. Manipulative fucking bastard. 

“Why aren’t you kissing him then?” I ask with a neutral voice.

“He’s being difficult. He won’t let me,” he whines.

“That’s rather cruel of him.”

“I know right? What do you think I should do to convince him?”

“Maybe if you kiss him, but not on the mouth, he’ll yield and actually kiss you?”

I feel the smile that spreads on his lips against my ear. “That’s a very good idea, thank you.”

And then his lips are under my ear, trailing kisses on the underside of my jaw, my neck, my chin, my cheek, until I can’t take it anymore and I grab the back of his head to bring his lips on mine. He laughs against my mouth, proud of himself, and I can’t even bring myself to be mad about it because seconds later, his tongue is licking at my teeth, waiting for them to part to give him access to my mouth. Access that I gladly give him, because I’m weak, because he wants me, because I want him.

I put my hands on his hips, as if to stop him from going away even though he _definitely_ doesn’t look like he wants to be anywhere else than here, on my lap, with his hands and lips on me.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz gives the best rewards.

**…**

**Baz**

It takes me a solid 15 minutes to… reward Snow, until we go back to doing something _actually_ productive. 

He’s sitting next to me this time, not on me, and one of the albums is spread open in between both of our laps. I explain Snow my thought process because I know from the look on his face that he’s going to ask what I intend on doing.

“I’m going to look at the pictures and if I see someone who I might think may be your mother, I will take the card with the names of the students on it,” I take the piece of paper I’m talking about out of the transparent wrap that protects the picture to show Snow. “and see if there’s anyone named Lucy. If there is, and it’s the girl I think is Lucy, we’ll look at the other names and see if there’s anyone we know. Well, I know because I doubt you know many people in our world. If there is, we’ll try contacting them to see if they know anything about Lucy, but even if they don’t, you’ll still have learnt her last name and seen her face in a picture so I’d say you get something out of this no matter what.”

He nods. “Okay but what do _I_ do then? I’m not included in your little plan.”

“Well, you can look through another album, looking at the names on the cards and showing me the picture whenever you see someone named Lucy, how about that?”

“Um, sounds good, I’m going to do that. Well, good research then, mate.”

“I swear to Merlin Snow, if you call me ‘mate’ one more time I will not let you kiss me all weekend and you’ll sleep on the bloody couch tonight.”

That seems to frighten him more than any threat I’ve uttered against him in the recent years because he grabs an album and opens it, pushing the one that was between us until it’s fully on me. 

That’s good, because I couldn’t handle it either, if I couldn’t kiss him until we were back at Watford. 

**…**

I’m on my second album and have seen at least three dozen pictures when my eyes finally land on a familiar face. 

She looks so much more like Snow than she did in my memory. 

She’s blonde like I thought, a lighter colour than Snow’s hair, while her eyes are the exact same shade of blue as his. Thanks, Miss Lucy for giving your son such bewitching eyes. Her face is cheerful in the picture, and her smile seems real even though I know it’s forced for the camera. 

“Snow, I think it’s her,” I tell him, poiting at the woman on the picture as I reach for the name card. I feel his eyes boring into me as mine go over the names. They stop on a name in particular, not the one I was looking for, but one I recognize nonetheless. Then, I keep looking until I, not so surprisingly, see the name Lucy Salisbury.

Salisbury.

I know that family. They’re a very old and wealthy family. I know for a fact that some members of this family are still alive, Lady Ruth Salisbury is often at the Club. She’s an old woman, probably Lucy’s mother.

Snow’s grandmother.

Simon has relatives who are alive and who would have been wealthy enough to give him the comfortable life he never had if they had taken him in. _Why_ didn’t they take him in? Do they not know about his existence?

I feel anger rising inside me, directed not at someone but at the situation. At the miserable life Snow, this kind, sweet boy lived when he could have had such a better one.

“Is it her?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yes. Yes, it’s her. Her name is Lucy Salisbury,” I tell him, controlling my voice.

I can’t let any of my emotions show when Snow must be overwhelmed by so many.

I see his eyes widen in shock, before he snatched the album from me to look at the picture more closely. “Lucy Salisbury… My mum.”

“Your mum,” I smile, resting my hand on his shoulder.

His eyes shine with what can only be tears. I pretend not to see them when they roll down his cheeks. “Did… Did you see the name of someone you know? Someone we could ask about her?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. This girl,” I tell him, pointing at a name, Anne Howell. “she’s Daphne’s little sister. She’s only one or two years younger I think, so Daphne might know something about Lucy. We know some of the younger kids at school, don’t we? If you’re lucky, your mum was popular or did something memorable enough for Daphne to know her. And well, if Daphne doesn’t, I guess I’ll ask her for her sister’s number. Either way, she can help, so let’s go see her.”

**…**

When we find her, Daphne is watching Ophelia and Cordelia as they’re drawing, Octavia seemingly asleep in her arms.

“Boys, is there something you want?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. You know how Snow came here because we had to look for something? Well, we found his mother and according to this picture.” I keep the album open in front of her so that she can see it without taking it in hand. “She was in Anne’s class. So I thought that since you’re not much older than your sister, you might know Snow’s mum.”

“Oh,” she says, glancing at Snow. “Well, do tell. What’s her name?”

“Lucy Salisbury. She’s this girl.”

Daphne looks at the person I’m showing her, eyebrows furrowed. “Lucy Salisbury… Oh, yes! Yes, I remember her. She was a year below me, but I heard about her a lot. No, that’s not right. I heard about her _boyfriend_ a lot, but she was often mentioned when he was.”

There’s an edge to Daphne’s voice that tells me that this is not good news. I hear Snow muffle a gasp when she says “boyfriend”.

“And what about her boyfriend? Do you know his name? It might help us in our research,” I tell Daphne, and then, looking at Snow. He’s biting his lip nervously. I want to hold his hand. “He might be your father.”

He gulp, and both of our glances turn back to Daphne. She has a sorry look on her face.

“I do know his name. It’s David, but it won’t be any indication to you. He doesn’t go by this name anymore. Now…” She looks down at Octavia, as if she can’t bear to hold our gazes. “Now he’s known as the Mage.”


	30. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon’s magic shield makes a comeback no one wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted another chapter sooner today, so make sure you’ve checked it before reading this one!

**Simon**

The Mage.

The Mage may be my… he may be… he m…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**...**   
  


**Baz**

I see shock wash over Snow’s face at my stepmother’s words, before his terrified expression turns into something else. Not, not into _something_ else. Into _nothing._

Empty eyes. Blank face. 

No.

No, no, no, not again, it’s not fucking happening again.

Fuck behaving appropriately around my parents, I grab his hand and pull his closer to my side. “Snow? Snow, come with me.”

He doesn’t react.

Of fucking course he doesn’t react.

I glance at Daphne apologetically before grabbing Snow by the shoulders. It’s a bit rude leaving like that, especially after asking her to talk to us, but I need to get Snow out of here. I drag him to the closest empty room, feeling him tremble under my hands. He’s also getting warmer. Crowley, don’t go off. Please don’t go off. 

I make him sit -he collapses- on the sofa, and I settle next to him, draping my arms over his shoulders again. I don’t know if it’s more for him or for myself, I just know that this contact is needed. My other hand goes to hold one of his, and it ends up being squeezed in between both of them. They’re so hot they burn. I don’t flinch or pull away for all that.

“Snow. Snow, stay with me ok? I’m here, you’re okay. You don’t need that. Keep your magic inside you, or give it to me, but don’t shield yourself with it,” I say even if it’s too late for that. He’s already glowing, and the pain I feel everywhere I touch his skin is agonising. “You don’t need that. I’m here. Nothing’s coming for you. You don’t need that. I can protect you. You don’t need that.”

When it comes to casting spells, repeating the same thing multiple times makes the spell stronger. More powerful. Maybe it’ll work on Snow. Or rather, on his magic. “It’s inside that it hurts, Simon, your magic can’t do anything. You don’t need that.”

My free hand moves in his hair, stroking it gently. I let my nails scrape against his scalp and even go so far as to kiss his curls like I’ve always wanted to. “You’re fine, Simon. I’m here for you. You can talk to me instead of letting your magic go. Please don’t shut me out, love.”

Fuck I didn’t mean to say that.

It doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters is the boy in my arms. It’s calming him down.

And I seem to be well on the way to doing that.

**…**

**Simon**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“... love.”

**…**

**Baz**

I can hear his heartbeat quicken. He must be gaining consciousness again.

Thank fucking Merlin.

I continue talking nonsense to him as he comes back to reality, my hand running through his hair in a way that I hope is as comforting as it is when done to me.

“Baz?” he says, looking a little lost.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.” 

My lips are still on his hair, and my breath must tickle him when I talk because he skirms the moment I say my first word. I move back. That way, I can look at his face, which is definitely better than kissing his hair, and I _loved_ doing that. 

His eyes are foggy, like when you just woke up, looking around erratically until they meet mine. “Baz,” he says again.”

“Simon,” I say with a small smile, teasing. 

“Baz. Baz is here. Baz…” 

And all of a sudden he’s burying his face on the crook of my neck, letting go of one of my hands to throw his arm around me. Since we’re sitting next to each other, it’s a bit of an awkward position, but he doesn’t seem too bothered by that. He mumbles something against my skin that sounds an awful lot like “Safe” when I pull him on my lap to make us more comfortable. 

He seems so far gone. Is it that hard on him, this magic thing? Merlin and Morgana.

“Yes, Simon, safe,” I say, hoping that it’s really what he said. “You’re safe. As long as I’m here, you’re safe. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“What your mum said hurt me,” he says weakly. 

“I know. I’m sorry you had to hear that. If I knew… If I knew Lucy had dated him, I wouldn’t have asked Daphne about it. I’m sorry.”

He sniffs, and I feel a tear falling on my neck. “‘s not your fault. How could you guess that my mum used to date the Mage? I’m just… It’s… I… It’s… It fucking _hurts_ , Baz,” he says, voice quivering.

“I know.” I use my free arm to run my hand up and down his side, staying a bit longer on his shoulder blade to rub it. “But… he may not be your father,” I try, even though I don’t really believe that. It’d make more sense for the Mage to _be_ his father than for him not to be.

“Baz… I know you’re trying to comfort me, but… you and I both know that he most likely is. Penny told me how you people feel about marriage and children and _you_ in particular should know how it’s like for young couples of mages. Your family is like the most ancient and traditionalist of all.”

He’s right, I do. I do because those expectations have been a weight on my shoulders since I came to terms with my sexuality.

If you’re in a relationship -a _heterosexual_ relationship, of course- when you leave Watford, which, according to our people’s beliefs, you’d better be, it’s because you know that they’re the one for you, that you want to stay with them. To quickly get engaged, to marry them, to have children. 

Besides, Lucy’s ghost seemed so young… If she was with the Mage at the end of her school years, I doubt she’d have had enough time to break up with him and find someone else to have a child with before she died. 

“I don’t know what I should tell you, to be honest.”

“Nothing,” he says, moving his head to rest it more comfortably on my shoulder. “No, I mean, you’re… this is already helping a lot. You holding me. I… Your stupid perfume is soothing and it feels good to be hugging you. I just… I need time to… process this.”

“My perfume is not stupid,” I say, pinching his side. He squirms, moving away from my hand with a huffed laugh. “We can stay like that then, if you want. And you can talk to me, you know that? If it helps you make sense of your thoughts, to say them out loud. I’m here for you, in whichever way you want me to be. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“I’d make fun of you for being soft but I’m really liking it.”

“If you make fun of me I’m pushing you off my lap so watch your mouth, Snow.”

I feel a kiss on my jaw. “You’re more comfy than you look. I’m sure you’d make a nice pillow. I’d like to prove that theory tonight.”

He can’t see my face, so I smile like an idiot. Simon Snow sleeping with his head on my chest is a lovely picture. But I know what he’s doing and I know that’s not good. I can’t let myself be distracted by his sweet words.

“Snow. Don’t not think about this. I know that’s your speciality, but this won't do you any good. It’s a difficult thing you have just been confronted with, and it will only hurt you more if you pretend it didn’t happen. I would know about that, keeping it all inside is _my_ speciality. Don’t be like me.”

“Pff, as if I wanted to be like you.”

“Snow.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out loudly. And he calls _me_ dramatic.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admits. I can feel his hand brush against my stomach as he rubs his thigh, trying to keep his hands busy, I suppose. The other is still holding mine, trapped in between our bodies.

“You don’t need to say anything if you really don’t want to, but I think it might help you to talk to someone. To talk, full stop, really. Maybe you could… say how you feel about the possibility that the Mage may be your father. What’s the first emotion that comes to you when you think about that?”

“Anger,” he says immediately. Fair enough. I’d be fucking furious if I were him. I _am_ furious. “I… I feel… betrayed. I think I’ve already told you that, but all those years in care, I… I dreamt about my parents coming and taking me back. It was quite literally my biggest wish. I thought that I wouldn’t care that they had abandonned me, wouldn’t care that they had left me in those fucking orphanages for so long. But then the Mage came, and it wasn’t my parents, but it was someone, you know? When the lady from the care home told me there was a man who had followed all the process to become my legal guardian, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that someone finally _wanted_ me. I was over the bloody moon. The Mage… fuck if we were in a movie, I’d have seen him with a halo around him and epic music playing in background the first time I saw him. And our first day together was so much better than any fucking day I had had so far. It was the summer, and it was hot outside -well, as hot as it gets in the north, anyway- so he got me ice cream and that was the first time I had ice cream, can you believe that? Then he asked me if I wanted to go to the cinema and when I said yes he took me there and we watched a film together. It was also the first time I ever went to a cinema. It’s only after that that he drove us to Watford and told me everything. That magic was a very real thing, and that I was a mage. That he was one himself. That I’d go to this school, of which he was the Headmaster, to learn about magic. He told me about the Humdrum and the Sword of Mage. In the span of half a day, I went from some random orphan boy from Lancashire to who I am now. The Chosen One. For the first time in my life, when the Mage looked at me with hope in his eyes, I felt like I mattered. I… He _saved me_ , Baz. That’s how I felt about him coming to take me from the care home since the day he happened. He got me out of this hell. He gave me this amazing life I have and now… now all of this feels wrong because he may be the one who fucking put me there. I mean what else could it be? You said it seemed like my mum thought I had been raised by my father, so that means I was with my parents up until she died, so there’s really no other solution that seems possible, right? He abandoned me. He didn’t want me and then he took me back when he needed me. He… He fucking made me live that miserable fucking life because he couldn’t be bothered with me and then he made it seem like he was the hero in that story, doing all of that stupid paperwork to be my guardian. You were fucking right, he _used_ me. I never mattered to him. I never _fucking_ mattered.”

He’s crying now. Really crying. It’s not just a tear like before, it’s a flow of them. He sniffles in between words. His voice isn’t steady. 

I hate it. 

I always thought it was bloody tragic that Snow grew up in care homes. Now that I know for a fact that he could have had another life, I’m just disgusted. _At the Mage._

I didn’t think I could hate that man any more than I already did. Turns out I was wrong.

“You matter, Simon. Maybe not to that bastard, but fuck him. There are other people who care for you. You have Bunce. You have Wellbelove. You… You have me, too. You _matter_ , Simon Snow. So fucking much. Don’t let that piece of shit make you feel like you don’t, okay?” I say, maybe a bit too fiercely. 

I don’t want him to think he doesn’t matter. Because it’s fucking _wrong_. He’s the thing in this world that matters the most to me.

It takes him a few seconds to talk again after that, his voice still quivering just as much. “Why do you think he abandoned me? I… I was a little baby, what could I have done for him to want to… to get rid of me?” 

A sob comes at the end of his sentence, making my hands clench. If they weren’t both somewhere on Snow’s body, they would be two tight balls. 

The Mage is fucking lucky we found this out when we were far from Watford. I think that if we were there I’d have searched the whole bloody school until I found him. To ask him some _friendly_ questions. And probably hurt him really, really, _really_ badly.

Though I’m sure that even with the most cruel spells I know, I’m not sure I could make him feel a pain half as bad as the one Snow’s feeling. I can practically _feel_ his pain, taste it in the air.

“You’ve done _nothing_ wrong, okay Snow? We don’t know what happened, what made him… abandon you, but whatever it is, it was his fault, do you understand? You are not, in any way, responsible. It’s all on him.”

“But…”

“No buts. Nothing, I repeat, _nothing_ justifies the fact that he abandoned you. _Especially_ to take you back years later. What he did was cruel, and messed up, and unfair, and absolutely disgusting, and _none of your fucking fault._ Do not talk back unless it’s to agree with me. I’m right. I’m always right. You should know by now.”

That comment gets a soft chuckle out of him. “Prick.”

“That’s not new either. But your insults are getting very repetitive, Snow. I think you’re getting a bit rusty.”

I won’t force him to talk about his father again now. He may not have gotten everything out, but he did say a lot of things, and he also cried a whole lot, he deserves a break. So instead, I’m going to get him to banter for a while. It’s entertaining enough. 

“Yours are getting repetitive too, Basil. All you ever do is tell me I’m an idiot or a brute.”

“Because you are.”

“And _you_ are an arrogant prick.”

“Yet here you are, holding onto me like a baby koala.”

All I get is an offended sound and a kick in the shin. “As if you were complaining.”

“I’m most certainly not. I rather like having you close to me like that.”

My shoulders feel too light, like something is missing, when Snow moves his head to face me. 

“Oh, really, you do?” he asks with a smug grin. “What do you like about it? Being close to me.”

I pretend to think about it, and then I use my free hand -he’s still holding the other, I’m not even sure if he still realizes it- to trace the outline of his face more tenderly than I care to admit, my fingers brushing the wetness of the tears he shed when I come close to his chin. He closes his eyes, and hums appreciatively. 

“I like being close enough to touch you. Your beautiful face, but also your body.” My hand leaves his face to go down his back, making him shiver. I only have to lean a little to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love being close enough to kiss you.” His lips part. I don’t know if it’s intentional, or a mindless reaction to the mention of kissing, but either way, it makes me smile before I bring my lips to his, kissing him slowly. No tongue, no teeth, just a soft, innocent kiss. We’ll have time for rougher touches later. Now, I want to show Snow how much I cherish him. I want to make him feel like he is the most precious thing in the world.

He is. At least to me.

“I love being close enough to run my hand through your hair. Did I ever tell you how much I love your hair? I adore it. Those curls at the top of your head, they plagued my dreams for so long. I wanted to touch them. To feel how soft there were. To struggle with the knots that would obviously be in them. Now I know all of that, and I’m so glad about it.” He practically purrs when my hand gets lost in his wild hair.

“I love being close enough that I can see all of your lovely moles and freckles. I love them too. Some of your moles actually look like constellations. It’s like you have the night sky on your skin. It’s wonderful.” I kiss the mole on his cheekbone, just under the corner of his eye, the one I’ve wanted to kiss the most since I started thinking about the possibility of kissing Simon. I see his eyelashes flutter, as if his eyes wanted to open and he fought to keep them shut.

“I love being close enough that I can feel the heat of your body. You’re so warm, Simon Snow. Touching your skin gives me the same feeling as holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate in the dead of winter when it’s freezing outside and your fingers are sore because of the cold.” I put my cold hand on his neck. I see him suppress his reaction ; he would probably have jerked away otherwise.

“I love being close enough that I can smell your odour. You smell of this clean, though a bit chemical smell that cheap soaps have. You smell warm too. A smell that’d be thick on the tongue if you could taste it, like melted butter and popcorn. You smell of something I can’t identify, but that I love because it’s _you.”_ This time I’m the one who pressed my face against his neck, breathing in his scent.

When I move back, my hand slides until it’s over his heart. “I love being close enough to hear your heart beating. To feel your heart beating. You’re so alive, Simon. So, so alive. You’ve got my share of it.”

His eyes snap open at that. Did I say something? I thought I was doing well, he seemed to like it. “Don’t say that. Don’t say that like you’re… Like you’re _dead_.” He spits the word out like it has offended him. 

“I _am_ dead.”

“No, you’re not. You’re alive Baz.” His eyes bore into mine. “You may not be alive the same way the rest of us are, but you _are_ alive.”

He says it like it’s an absolute certainty. He says it like it’s true. He says it like he _believes_ it.

He makes me want to believe it. 


	31. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon thinks (rare thing, I know)  
> Daphne is a great step mother  
> The boys have lunch together and look at the photo album Simon found that contains pictures of Baz’s family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, once again, posting a chapter that I should have only posted tonight

**Simon**

I’m so grateful for Baz.

I never thought I’d ever think that, but I am. He’s been so wonderful to me lately, and especially today, helping me find my mother’s picture, asking his stepmother about her. Stopping my magic from completely going crazy after Mrs Grimm told us that about my mum being the Mage’s girlfriend. Comforting me. Being there for me. Holding me against him, his cold hands and cedar and bergamot smell making me feel safe. 

Calling me _love_.

It’s the only word I heard from his sentence, but I’m sure that’s what happened. You don’t just end a sentence with love. 

I don’t really know how I feel about Baz calling me love. I don’t think I mind. I mean I… I think I’m in love with him. I didn’t tell him that, of course, I don’t want him to think I’m some sort of creep. Who catches feelings so easily, huh? But the thing is, I don’t see another word to describe it. He makes me feel everything Agatha made me feel, but 10 times as intensely. Loving Agatha was like a spring afternoon spent in the sun. Warm and pleasant. Loving Baz, like everything with him, is like a fire. It was unpredictable. It started small, just a spark of something new when I realized I might not actually hate him, and then when we kissed everything was set ablaze. Suddenly his presence, the _need_ for his presence, like flames starting to burn, was overwhelming. And it grew, and grew, and grew until it was the only thing less, destroying in its wake everything I believed about him, about myself, about _love._ It’s so much stronger than anything I ever felt before. 

So yes, I think that’s love.

And maybe that’s what feels too.

He said he _liked_ me, though, not that he loved me. But then again, so did I. So maybe… Maybe there’s a chance that the word didn’t just slip, that he meant to say it. That he meant _it_. That he loves me.

**…**

**Baz**

I brought Snow back to my room after some more cuddling. He was perfectly capable of walking there on his own but I didn’t want to let go off him just yet. However, once he was comfortably sitting on the sofa, his cheeks now dry though his eyes were still a bit red, I had to go. His magic _did_ hurt me -he made a big deal about it. I don’t care- I have to go get it healed. Besides, I can already smell food from the kitchen, and Snow insisted he wanted to see me eat, so I suppose I also need to ask for two plates, for the both of us. 

But first, my hands.

I have very nasty burn marks, worse than those Bunce had ever though I’m convinced she touched him while he was in that state for longer than I did. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of my being a vampire, I’m more sensitive to something that _burns_ . Maybe it’s because of the fact that his magic seems to like rushing to me. Either way, I’m going to need Daphne to use a powerful spell on that. I know for a fact that the **Get better soon** I used on Bunce won’t be enough. I can barely feel my hands anymore. 

My stepmother gasps when I show her my palms. “Basil! What happened to you,” she says, worry in her voice as she carefully takes my hands in hers. 

“It’s nothing.” 

She shakes her head, as if I was mad for telling her that. “You’re _burnt_ Baz. For Crowley’s sake, you are _flammable_. What did you do?”

“It’s really not a big deal, there was no actual fire involved, I…It’s complicated to explain to someone who hasn’t seen it with their own magic, but Snow’s magic acts up, sometimes. It escapes his body. It makes no sense, I know, but it’s true. Whatever, when it does, his magic burns you when you touch him. That’s what happened. He was overwhelmed, so his magic did that, and I touched him knowing it’d hurt me. But you can heal it! That’s why I came to you. I need you to cast a few spells on my hands.”

There’s a concerned line on Daphne’s forehead, and her eyebrows are furrowed. “I don’t like this. Mr Snow didn’t hurt you on purpose, did he?”

“Merlin and Morgana, no! I promise, Mother. It is Snow’s doing, but there was nothing intentional about it. If anything, it’s my fault. Please, I simply need you to heal me.”

I’m still not sure she completely believes me -I can understand why, I know it’s a strange story, but it’s the _truth_ \- but she rubs her necklace nonetheless. 

I love Daphne’s magickal item. It’s a pendant, made of amber sculpted in the shape of a teardrop, and when she uses it, it casts a beautiful orange glow on her skin. “ **Kiss it better** ,” I hear her say before she brings my hands to her mouth and kisses one, then the other. 

The spell works immediately ; my hands become less and less swollen and all of the burn marks disappear. It makes me smile. **Kiss it better** is not only a powerful healing spell -definitely more powerful than **Get better soon** \- but it’s also a family spell. It only works if the person you use it on is part of your family. If you _consider_ them family. It works on friends if you love them enough, but it doesn’t work on those who have the same blood if your blood is the only tie you have to them. I know I shouldn’t be surprised that the spell works on me, Daphne has shown me more than once that she cared for me but it still seems a little unbelievable. 

For good measure, she casts the spell a second time. “Just to be sure it won’t hurt anymore,” she says. 

It wasn’t necessary, the first spell had done the job already. She’s a powerful mage. I tend to forget that for she so rarely use her magic for anything else than basic spells I give her a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But Baz,” she adds before I can go. “How is Mr Snow doing? He seemed quite upset.”

“He was. He’s better now, though, but I’d rather not leave him alone for a long time, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, go back to him,” she tells me with a knowing smile.

Aleister Crowley. Tonight’s talk with my parents is going to be _so_ awkward. Kill me now. 

“I’m going to get Snow and I food from the kitchen before. We’re having lunch in my room.”

“As you wish. But you know the rules, make sure to bring your dishes back to the kitchen afterwards.”

I’ve eaten every meal in my room since the day my fangs first popped out. _I know_ the rules. Have at least one meal a day, but don’t ask for food you know you won’t eat. Don’t leave food in your room, we don’t want insects. Spell your plate clean and bring it back to the kitchen. If you spill food somewhere, clean it. 

I simply nod before heading to the kitchen.

**…**

The cook made roast beef today. Snow is going to be delighted. 

**…**

The bloody fool _claps_ when he sees me enter my room with our plates in hands. “You brought us food!”

“Brilliant observation, Snow,” I tell him as I sit by his side, handing him a plate.”

“You called me Simon before.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did, when you were comforting me. I liked it,” he says with a shy smile on his lips. 

“Just eat your food, Snow.”

“Simon,” he insists. 

“ _Snow_. Look, it’s something you like, stuff your face and stop pestering me.”

And with that, I take my fork and knife in hand and start cutting my meat. 

I can feel my fangs pop, piercing the inside my mouth as I keep my lips tightly shut. It makes me bleed inside my mouth, which is a very unpleasant sensation, but not one I’m unfamiliar with. If vampires didn’t heal so fast, I’d constantly be injured around where my fangs are. 

Snow is watching me curiously as he eats his own food. I know that it’s to check if _I_ am going to eat, but it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want him to see my fangs. I don’t want him to be directly confronted with the fact that I am a monster. But he’s worried about me and even if I think he’s a moron for believing I have an eating disorder, I can _sort of_ see why he’d think so, nervously, I bring my fork to my mouth, my other hand hiding my lips as best as it can as they open and close around the fork. 

Either he saw them, or it’s enough for Snow to understand, because he says “Your fangs… they come out when you eat. That’s why you don’t do it in front of people!”

**…**

**Simon**

It makes more sense than what I initially thought, actually.

It would explain why Baz never eats in the dining hall, he doesn’t want anyone to see his fangs and therefore know that he is a vampire. It doesn’t explain why he doesn’t eat with his family. Unless he’s really _that_ ashamed of his vampirism. Crowley, is he that ashamed of his vampirism?

He nods, and I’m sure I can see a little bit of pink on his cheeks. 

“They’re not as visible as you think, you know. I mean, I could see them because I’m sitting right next to you and I was watching you eat, but they’re not enormous.”

“They’re big enough,” he mutters, pushing his food around his plate instead of eating it. 

“Baz.” I put my hand on his arm. “I’ll stop looking if you want but eat, okay? Don’t starve yourself because you’re insecure. Look, I’m turning around, l can’t see them anymore,” I say as I shift on the sofa until I’m sitting with my back to Baz’s side.

It’s a bit of a strange position, my legs are not being very cooperative which makes it difficult to put my plate somewhere in order to have my hands free to eat, but at least Baz should be comfortable enough to eat. 

Shortly after, I hear him chew.

**…**

**Baz**

I didn’t think he'd leave me alone so easily. He was never the type to drop the topic easily when it comes to my vampirism, but I suppose that it’s because now he knows that it’s something I suffer from and not something I’m glad about and that I use to hurt innocent, defenseless people like he thought for years.

We eat in silence, except for Snow’s occasional chatter -for someone who speaks so little and has such a difficult relationship with words, he really hates silence- and then I clean or plates with a spell.

“You can’t even wash your bloody dishes,” Snow comments. “It’s a waste of magic.”

 _Waste of magic_. That’s a stupid concept. We have magic, why would it be a waste to use it? And I’m a firm believer that using magic is like playing sports. The more you do it, the better you get. If you’re scared to cast spells because you think it’s a “waste of magic” you’ll never be a very powerful mage, for you don’t practice, and your magic will indeed be weak and fail you when you need it most because it’s not used to being used a lot.

“Nothing is a waste of magic. Besides, considering how messed up yours is, I’m not sure _my_ magic is what you should worry about.”

He punches my arm. “It’s not my fault my magic is like that.”

“It’s not mine either, Snow,” I say as I stand up, stacking his plate on top of mine with our cutlery on it. “I’m going to go put those in the kitchen, would you mind retrieving the album you found? With the pictures of my parents and me. I put the key back in its place but I think you should still be able to reach it, even if you’re short.”

“For the hundredth time, I’m _not_ short. And my name is Simon. I’ll do what you want if you call me Simon.”

“Fine, I’ll go get the album myself, then.”

“You’re such an arsehole! Would it kill you to call me by my name?”

“Snow _is_ your name,” I tell him with a smirk.

It makes him roll his eyes.

“My _first_ name.”

“Yes, it would.”

“I hate you so fucking much.”

**…**

Snow goes and gets the photo album. 

**…**

“I don’t have to look at it if you don’t want me to. It’s your family, after all, but I must say I’d like to see baby pictures of you,” he says, grinning, as we settle on my bed. 

“It’s fine. It’s just pictures. And you already have seen some of them anyway when you opened it to check so if there was harm to come from you seeing those, which there isn’t, it’s already been done.”

In all honesty, I’m a bit… nervous, in a strange, nonsensical way about Snow seeing pictures of my family. Of my _mother_ . It’s silly, but I’m a bit… protective of my mother’s image as a mother, as a wife. Everyone knows her as Headmistress Grimm-Pitch. I knew her as _Mum._ Very few people knew her the way I do, it’s sort of our secret ; Fiona’s, father’s and my secret. A part of her that is only ours.

But if I can share that with anyone, it’s Simon. 

So, with some apprehension, I open the album. The first page is a title page, with only “Album” written on it in elegant capital letters. But as soon as I turn them, there’s a picture of my mother. It must have been taken by Father, because she’s looking at the camera with a smile on her face and eyes that can only be described as full of love. She looks young, younger than I’ve seen her in any photo. She’s probably not much older than I am now. She’s sitting in the library of the manor, on the edge of the window. 

“She was a nerd too,” Snow teases, pointing at the open book on her lap. 

“You know, not everyone who reads is a nerd Snow. You’re just a barbarian.”

“I love it when you call me pretty names like that.”

I wish I could _actually_ call you pretty names, love. But see, I’m a bit of a coward.

Instead of saying that, I just ignore it -he hates that- and turn the page. My mum looks just as young, but this time, Father is there too, with his arm around her waist. His hair is still this black that must be his natural colour. It’s a bit of a shock to see him like that. I’ve never seen a single picture of him from before Mother died.

“Your dad’s hair…”

“Did you think it was always white?” I ask, shooting Snow a curious glance.

“I mean, yeah? It could have been, for all I know.”

He’s an idiot.

“Well, it wasn’t. It went white when my mother died. Before, it was like that.”

“It looks just like yours. And it’s almost the same length, too,” Snow comments, twisting a strand of my hair around his finger as he does. “You don’t look much like him though, apart from the hair.”

“No, I took a lot from my mother.”

It’s particularly striking now that I see her this young. I would have looked just like her if I was a girl. My features are a bit too harsh to completely look like her, she had a softer, rounder face shape, and less sharp cheekbones. 

“How long had your parents been together when she… you know…”

“Died. You can say it. And it had been a long time, actually. A bit less than 20 years, I think. They were together when they finished Watford, and my mother was in her thirties when she died.”

Snow’s eyes go wide. “That long? I haven’t even been _alive_ for 20 years. It must have been so hard for him when she died.” 

There’s genuine sadness in Snow’s voice. He is so compassionate.

“It was. I don’t remember much of it of course, I was too young, but I remember my father being sad. All the time. If you asked little Baz to describe his dad, he’d have said ‘sad’. But I suppose that that’s what losing the person you thought you would spend your life with does to a person.”

“It’s so sad. I mean, of course it’s sad it’s someone who died but…”

“I get what you mean, don’t make a fool of yourself trying to explain.”

“Fuck off.

**…**

My parents get older and older on each page, and I get to see some landmarks of their life and relationship. Their graduation. Their first day at Oxford. A picture in the house they bought when they were at uni. Some of their anniversaries. 

And then their wedding.

There’s a picture of Mother in her wedding dress in Father’s office, so I’ve already seen how she looked like that day, but on the picture my eyes are on right now, she looks so much happier than on that other one. Her arms are hooked around Father’s neck, the golden band of her wedding ring standing out in his dark hair. She’s looking at him in a way I hope someone, someday, will look at me, and her smile is the brightest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s brighter than _Snow’s_ smile. Her hair is half down, a beautiful golden brooch holding the front pieces of her hair away from her face. The sleeves of her dress are made of some transparent material and white lace, which makes it look like she has white flowers growing on her arms.

She looks gorgeous.

Father is not so bad himself, in an elegant black suit, but my mother outshines him. 

He’s holding her with all the care in the world, his arms circling her waist, and he has happiness written all over his face as well. It’s quite a sight, really, my father radiating so much joy. 

I’ve seen him happy, now, of course. Daphne and the girls made him happy. But he never looked quite as glorious as he does on this picture. 

“They seem so happy.”

I hum in response, still staring at the picture. “Do you think my father would be angry if I took that photograph?”

“I don’t know, he’s your dad not mine, but uh, I guess that if he keeps the album in a cabinet in a room that’s locked, you can take the picture without upsetting him too much.”

So I take it.

**...**

My mother has one hand on her round belly, the other reaching out for the person behind the camera -Father, probably. She has a smile on her face, smaller than on previous ones, but not any less happy.

“Hey, that’s you in there,” Snow tells me with amusement in his voice. 

**…**

“Finally! Baby Baz!” he shouts excitedly when the page turns to a picture of my mother holding me, as a newborn, with Father on her side. “We can’t see much of you though. I can’t wait to see the other ones!”

He’s a nuisance.

**…**

Turns out there aren’t many pictures of me as a baby -probably because my parents had an album only made of pictures of me, but I’m not going to tell Snow that- ; in the next one I’m already much older, for a baby, old enough to be walking with my mother holding my arms up. She’s crouched behind me, and she seems to be talking so I suppose she was praising me, while I’m looking at the camera, one of those beautiful smiles babies make on my face.

“Oh my god, look at you with your little suspenders and bow tie! You were so cute,” Snow exclaims, glee in his eyes. “And your skin, Jesus Christ. Give me that.” 

He snatches the picture from the album, and put it next to my face, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks back and forth between me and the photograph. 

I raise one of my eyebrows at him. “What in the name of magic are you doing, Snow?”

“Trying to picture you with skin like that. See what you would have looked like if… If you hadn’t been… Turned,” he answers, blushing a bit at the end. He _knows_ I hate talking about that. 

“And how do I look?”

“Just as hot.”

It’s the first time he calls me hot. I might have a heart attack. Or jump him.

I do neither of those things. Instead, I just snort. “Crowley, don’t call me hot when you’re holding a baby picture of me.”

“Oh shut up. You know I’m talking about you, _you_ , not you in the picture. You in the picture is an adorable, tiny little baby. If you’re not happy, I’m not going to call you hot ever again.”

“You’ve never even called me hot before. It’d be a pity if you stopped now.”

“I haven’t? Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that was stupid of me. Because you’re very, very, _very_ hot, Basil,” he says, staring right at me with a gleam in his eyes that makes my head spin as he puts the photograph back in the album, which he closes and discards next to him.

I don’t know how he did it, he’s a clumsy fool.

Then he’s climbing on my lap for the second time today, one of his hands already getting lost in my hair and I don’t feel much like insulting him anymore, even just in my head.


	32. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz has a talk with Malcolm and Daphne  
> Simon is being horny in background but he has been for half of the story soooo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *incoherent gremlin noises* i wanna post more djdjdjjdjdjdjdjd

**Simon**

I’m actively trying to give Baz a love bite -it’s not working, the bastard doesn’t bruise for long- when we hear knocking on his door. He quite literally pushes me off his lap, with so much strength that I fall back on the bed, before he stands up. He fixes his shirt, and his hair, and heads to the door. It’s far enough from the bed that whoever is behind it cannot see me. Thank Merlin they can’t, I’m bloody shirtless. I think I’d die of shame and embarrassment if one of Baz’s parents saw me without my shirt on in their son’s bed.

“Mother?” I hear him say. “What is it?”

“Your father would like to talk to you now.”

Already? 

Either Baz and I snogged for far longer than I thought, or his father’s definition of “tonight” is very vague. 

“We would need Mr Snow to look after the girls while we have a conversation with you,” Mrs Grimm continues. “Octavia is already in bed, it’d just be the twins and Mordelia, but Mordy can look after herself so really, just Ophelia and Cordelia. Do you think he could?”

Baz glances at me expectantly, and I give him a thumbs up. I don’t mind watching the kids, I already do that in the care homes, and I like it a lot. Besides, his sisters seem to be good kids so it shouldn’t be too complicated.

“Yes of course. Let’s make the most of his presence here, shall we,” Baz tells his stepmother, with a smirk on his face. “Give us five minutes and we’re coming downstairs.”

“The girls are in the living room, your father and I will be waiting for you in his office.”

He nods at her, and seconds after, he closes the door. When he turns at me, I can see that he’s tense. 

“Baz?”

“Put a shirt on. I don’t want to make my father wait.”

**…**

**Baz**

“Father, Mother, you wanted to see me?” I say as I walk in my father’s study.

Being here was never a good sign. It always meant bad news or reprimand.

Daphne gives me a small, encouraging smile. She’s standing next to Father, her hands on his shoulders. I see that her thumbs are rubbing circles against the fabric of his suit.

“Yes. Please sit down,” Father says, waving at the seat on the other side of the desk from him.

I obey. I sit with my back straight, my hands on my knees. I feel like a little child again. 

Crowley, I thought that it wouldn’t be so bad since Daphne is here but the mood in the room is so heavy it feels suffocating.

“Basil,” my father says, his voice devoid of all emotion that could help me know how I should behave. “I’m going to get straight to the point. Are you and Mr Snow in a relationship?”

His voice gets a little higher when he says “Mr Snow”, but he doesn’t show any other sign of discomfort.

Well, at least he isn’t beating around the bush. I try to control my breathing not to let my heart race in my chest as I answer, my eyes boring into my father’s “Yes. Yes, we are.”

At first he doesn’t react, and then he simply nods. I catch a glimpse of Daphne’s smile and it makes me feel a little more confident. At least _she_ doesn’t mind. If he says anything, she’ll side with me.

“Do you… What are your feelings for him?” Father asks.

That takes me aback. I was expecting disapproving words, not more questions. Especially not a question such as this one. 

“I like him,” I say and it sounds wrong.

“Like” is so far from what I feel for Simon Snow. Me saying I _like_ him is like saying the Pacific Ocean is a puddle. It’s such an understatement that it’s almost ridiculous.

“You… like him?” 

Father doesn’t seem to believe that. Does he see through my bullshit or does he think it’s impossible that I might have feelings for Snow and that I’m not with him just for sex, though, I don’t know. 

“No.” I shake my head, and see disbelief starting to write itself on both of their faces. “I don’t like him, that’s not right. I love him, Father. I _love him_.”

I don’t look away from him as I say it, watching the way his expression changes. It stays blank for a moment, and then his face relaxes and I see the shadow of a smile grow on his lips. No, that can’t be that. Why would my father _smile_ after I told him I was in love with a boy, with this boy in particular.

“Are your feelings mutual?”

What is it with all the questions?

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Our relationship is fairly new, we haven’t talked about love yet.”

I really don’t know. I know he likes me. But it’s not _love_.

“I think he does,” Daphne intervenes for the first time. Father turns at her, his eyebrows furrowed, a question in his eyes. “Darling, I think I have more experience than you when it comes to knowing whether or not a young man is smitten,” she tells him, squeezing his shoulders. “And even if I was wrong, it doesn’t make their relationship any less legitimate. Feelings can grow. When we started seeing each other, you didn’t love me right away, did you? It took time. Yet here we are now. It’s not unusual at all not to be in love when a relationship is only just starting to blossom.”

“This is not the only reason why I asked,” Father says, either ignoring Daphne’s words or taking them into account without mentioning them. “Does Mr Snow know the depth of your feelings? Are you sure he is honest with you? Only a few months ago, Mrs Wellbelove was bragging about how her daughter was going to marry Mr Snow once their Watford years would be over, and now you’re bringing him home? Excuse me if I think this is suspicious.”

Wait, is my father... worried about me? Am I misinterpreting his words, or does he fear Simon might be leading me on?

“I know that he isn’t lying to me, Father. I’ll be honest, I had my doubts too, but I know that he is not a liar, and that if he tells me he cares about me, it’s because he truly does. I trust his words, and I think you should trust my judgment. I don’t want to be heartbroken, I wouldn’t have dived head first into a relationship if I knew I was going to get hurt.”

“So you’re sure about him?” Father asks, and it sounds like a genuine question, not a challenge, a provocation, or him mocking me. 

“Yes. Yes I’m sure about him,” I say, putting as much certainty as I can in my words.

My father takes a few seconds to assimilate them. Then, he nods.

“Very well. As long as this relationship with Mr Snow makes you happy and is beneficial to you, I don’t have a problem with it, but I think you should stay careful. Love is blind, as they say, but Mr Snow _is_ the Mage’s Heir, Basil, and in a particularly delicate position with the Coven at the moment, in case you’ve forgotten. I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed, or worse, betrayed, because you harboured illusions.”

So he _is_ worried about me. That’s a surprise. I know my father worries about me, of course, he was overly nervous yesterday during my trial, but I didn’t think he’d worry about my _feelings_ being hurt. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. But, speaking of, do you know if the Coven is going to take measures against Snow?”

My father was in a meeting today, after all. He might have news about Miss Hale’s case, about _Snow’s implication_ , in Miss Hale’s case.

“That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Today wasn’t exactly a meeting. We, the court, have questioned the Mage today. We asked him for his version of the events, and we are going to ask Mr Snow’s for his next week, as well as putting either the both of them, or only the Mage on trial, depending on Mr Snow’s cooperation and his answers. I’m telling you this because I believe the news might be better received if they come from you.”

Fuck.

It was obvious, really, now that I think about it, that the Mage and Snow would be put on trial, but I don’t think I truly realized it until my father said it. Snow. On trial. He _can’t_ be put on trial, he doesn’t know how to defend himself, he gets so easily overwhelmed, he won’t know what to do. “What do you mean when you say ‘depending on his cooperation and answers’? What should Simon do to avoid being put on trial with the Mage?” I ask, and some of the horror I feel can be heard in my voice. 

“Accepting to answer us under a truth spell would be a good start. The Mage refused, which is why we might need a proper trial. If Mr Snow submits himself to a truth spell and tells us he did nothing and the Mage was the only person involved in Miss Hale’s murder, he’ll be cleared, and the Mage will be punished for his crime. But if he refuses, there will be a trial, and the both of them may end up with the same sentence, or very equivalent ones. So if you’re sure that he did not lie to you when he told you he was innocent, you should convince him to accept the truth spell. It would be The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” Father says without magic, but the spell sends a shiver down my spine nonetheless.

There are many different truth spells -all illegal, except for Coven members leading a questioning- and this one is the worst of them all. It doesn’t force you to tell the truth per say, but it inflicts a pain that grows and grows and grows the more you lie or stay silent. Hundreds of people _died_ when subjected to that spell. You don’t accept having it be cast on you unless you’re 100% sure that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“But if Snow lets the Coven use the spell on him, and he tells them that he was not involved in the fire that killed Miss Hale, do you promise that he won’t face any consequences? I know that it’s the occasion some members of the Coven have been dreaming of for years, the Chosen One being in a situation where he might be punished by the court, but it’s not time for silly revenge or unfair political plans, Father. He’s… He’s the same age as me. We’re barely adults, to most people we’re still children, I… Don’t hold him accountable for a war he doesn’t understand the half of. That’s all I’m asking for. If he is to be judged, may it be in a _fair_ way.”

My father stares at me for a moment, his gaze feeling like a weight on my shoulders, a weight that his words lift. “I promise. I’ll make sure that whatever judgment falls upon Mr Snow, it’s a completely just one.”

It probably costs him to promise such a thing, the Families only wish for Snow’s fall, but I know he won’t break it. He won’t betray me in this way, not after I told him I loved Snow. 

“Thank you. May I go, now? It’s been a while since I left Snow with the girls, I’m afraid what they might have done to him.”

It brings a smile to my father’s face, and I hear Daphne laugh softly. I had almost forgotten her presence, too caught up in my feelings and in the things my father was saying. 

“Yes, you can go,” Father answers. 

“No, wait a minute. I’d like to have a word with you,” Daphne says as I stand up.

Father shoot her a confused glance, but she didn’t tell him anything more. She simply squeezed his shoulders one last time before going around the desk to join me. She walked me out of the room, and the further we got from Father, the more I wondered what she wanted. She can be quite unpredictable, this woman.

“Daphne, what is it?”

I rarely call her Daphne now, but sometimes it still slips. It stops her in her tracks, probably because she understood I was puzzled. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m very proud of you for telling your father and I about Mr Snow. I know it can’t have been easy, and I’m glad you did,” she answers, pushing some of my hair back and away from my face -thank Snow and his dislike of my hair gel. “But also,” she adds, almost whispering. “While the two of you were in your mother’s office, I put something in the drawer of your beside table. I think you should check.”

And with that, she’s gone.

**…**

When I enter the living room, I see Snow sitting on the sofa with Ophelia and Cordelia, telling them something that they listen to with great attention and eagerness. He’s got one of them on each of his thighs, which can’t be comfortable -they’re little, but not that little- but Snow seems to be enjoying himself. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt ladies, but I’d like to get my friend back,” I say once I’m close enough.

I arrived from behind, so I startle them all because none of them saw me coming. 

“Merlin Baz, don’t sneak up on me like that, you moron. _Especially not_ when I’ve got kids sitting on me,” he groans, rubbing my sisters’ backs.

“It’s a wonder you survived so many monsters if you jump like that when someone’s behind you, Snow.”

“Sheer luck, and lots of fucked up magic did the trick so far,” he says with one of those insufferable grins that make me want to kiss him just to take them off his face.

“What did I already say about swearing in front of the kids?”

“Eff off.”

“Simon, story,” Ophelia demands, glaring at me, apparently very bothered that I dared interrupting them.

Snow pats the top of her head gently. “I’ll tell you the rest of the story tomorrow, okay girls? I’m going to go with your brother now.”

“No! Story!” It’s Cordelia who speaks this time, wrapping her little arms around Snow’s neck.

Crowley, I love those kids, but they’re a constant pain in my arse. 

Snow laugh. “I’m sorry princess, I really have to go. What about Ophelia and you go play together, huh? Or you could go draw with Mordy?”

“I don’t want the babies with me!” Mordelia says right away, glancing at Snow threateningly from where she’s lying on the floor, on her stomach with paper, crayons and coloured pencils spread out in front of her.

But Snow has already made the “babies” get off his lap, so I suppose that whether or not they go with Mordelia isn’t our concern anymore.

**…**

“What happened with your parents?” Snow asks the moment I close the door of my room. “What did they want to talk to you about?”

“Us, just as I thought. My father wanted to know if I was in a relationship with you.”

“Oh. Did you say you were?”

“Yes, of course. I wasn’t going to lie about that, Snow. I’m not ashamed of what we have,” I tell him, reaching out for his hand. He lets me hold it.

His cheerful smile warms my heart. “I mean, since your dad isn’t very cool with you being gay you could have pretended there was nothing between us, you know, not to get in trouble.”

“I could have, but I did not. They pretty much knew already anyway, so it was not that big of a deal. On the contrary, my father was rather… supportive, in a way? He told me that he was okay with it as long as I was happy, which is much more supportive than I ever expected him to be. So overall, it was not a bad conversation. But the problem is, it’s not the only thing my father wanted to tell me.”

Here’s the difficult part. I don’t want to be telling Snow this now, not after this morning, but I think it's still better than waiting. Once it’s out, it’s out, and I’d rather tell him now than when we’ll be back at school. Let’s keep the difficult stuff for now, so that we can just go back to a semi-normal life at Watford, like when before he left this weekend.

“What is it?” 

“It’s about the Hale case.” His hand tightens around mine. “If my father was gone today, it’s because he and the two other members of the court of the Coven questioned the Mage about what happened. Since your magic was spotted in the house as well, they want to hear you too, next week.” 

I pause after that, to give him time to process the information and ask questions if he has any that come to his mind.

“Hear me? What does that mean ‘hear me’? Will I be on a trial like you were?” 

He’s speaking quickly, slurring his words. He’s panicking. 

“No, no, no, don’t worry, it’s not like that. It’s not, Snow. First of all, it’s not the High Court, it’s the regular one, so just my father and two other Coven members. And there is a way for you to get yourself out of this situation without even being put on trial.”

“There is?” he asks, and he already sounds a bit calmer, though his nervousness is still clear in his voice and facial expression. I rub his arm with my free hand.

“Yes. You have to accept to be questioned while subjected to a truth spell.”

“Aren’t those forbidden?”

“They are, but the Coven makes the law, they can bend them for their benefit. Anyway. If you accept that, you will prove your innocence, and they’ll let you go freely. If you don’t, there’ll be a trial, for both you and the Mage, and you might end up in big trouble. So to me, the best option is saying yes when they ask if they can cast the truth spell on you. It won’t have any effect on you if you tell the truth, and I know you’re not a liar. So you’ll be fine. Besides, I made my father promise you’ll be judged fairly. So really, you have no reason to worry, love, you’ll be okay.”

It’s only when I see his eyes widen that I realize what I just said. 

Fuck. 

“What did you just call me?” he asks, as if I wasn’t talking about him being _questioned by the Coven_ five seconds ago.

“Really? That’s the part of what I said you choose to focus on?” I sneer.

“Well, there’s not much to say about the rest, right? I’m going to accept the truth spell, and I’ll be fine, problem solved, there’s no point in worrying about it any longer.”

Crowley sometimes I wish my brain worked like Simon Snow’s. Even if I knew for sure that something would be okay, I would stress about it until it happened because I’d think about the tiny little unrealistic chance there is that it would _not_ go well. 

“So,” he continues, absolute nightmare that he is, because _of course_ he wasn’t going to drop it. “What did you call me, Basil?”

“Bastard.”

“Uh, uh, that’s not the right word,” he says. “Come on, it was ten seconds go, and you’re the one who said it, I’m sure you remember.”

I simply don’t answer. If he thinks he’s going to get me to say it again when he most likely wants to make fun of me for using a pet name, especially this one, he’s wrong.

“God, you’re so annoying,” he sighs when he understands I intend to remain silent. 

“Stop swea…”

“Oh, shut up! Don’t talk now when you don’t even answer the bloody question.”

“Why do you care anyway, it’s just a silly pet name,” I admit. 

“Maybe it’s just a silly pet name, but I liked hearing it,” he says with a pout.

He what?

“You what?”

“I liked hearing you call me love. It… I know you won’t because you’re an arse and you won’t even call me by my first name, but I’d like it if you called me that again,” he says, his eyes switching between the floor and my face. 

“Would you?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, we’re boyfriends, right?” My heart skips when he says it. Technically I know it, but I don’t realize it just yet, because it’s too good to be true. “So like, we can call each other nice things, it’s a thing couples do. I mean I didn’t with Agatha but I’m starting to realize that Agatha and I were a shit couple because I didn’t even consider doing with her half of the things I want with you and… Yeah anyway why am I talking about my ex right now.” 

A nervous laugh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his hair -the hand that was holding mine up until now. I see him step back, putting distance between up.

Merlin, this beautiful mess.

“Hey, love,” I call softly, because I’m a disgrace. It makes his eyes shine and it’s well worth being an insult to my entire bloodline. “Don’t freak out. I didn’t mean anything bad, okay? I’m… glad that you liked me calling you love. It’s just that I thought you would… make fun of me for it or something of the sort.”

“Why would I do?”

“Because technically we’ve been dating for what, 24 hours, and I’m already calling you pet names? That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah but that’s because we were idiots. The fact that we only started dating now, I mean. I… Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I think I’ve liked you for a long time too, I just didn’t want to admit it and I… I guess that since we both… like each, and have for a while it’s… it’s okay to skip steps a bit you know? And I mean it’s not like there’s anything that tells us what we can and can’t do just because we got together very recently. Who the fuck said you can’t call me love because I first kissed you yesterday? If I’m fine with it, and you’re fine with it too, let’s just fucking do it, you know? Who the fuck cares.”

I don’t even have it in me to argue. I know it’s probably not the smartest decision, but fuck, Simon is right, if it’s fine with us both, who the fuck cares.

“Well, let’s just fucking do it then I guess,” I tell him with a smile.

**…**

We end up snogging, of course.

Pretty much all of our conversations have ended up with snogging since the snogging started.

We’re in my bed, me on my back and Snow on top of me, lying with his legs in between mine and his weight pressing me down.

It’s fucking wonderful.

He shifts to get a better angle to kiss me, which makes his crotch rub against mine and I can feel that he’s starting to get hard.

Aleister fucking Crowley. Merlin and bloody Morgana. Eight damn snakes. 

Simon Snow is getting hard from snogging me.

I’m one lucky bastard, aren’t it?

But it makes me think…

“Snow,” I say when his lips decide to stop their assault for a second. “Could you do me a favour?”

“Does it involve my lips and your face? Otherwise, no.”

I snort. “No it doesn’t, but I think you should do it anyway.”

“Well what is it? There are things I want this pretty mouth of yours to be doing right now and it’s _not_ talking.”

I firmly believe that Simon Snow can’t fucking hear himself. Or that he doesn’t realize how bloody sexual the things he says sound. 

“Look inside the drawer of my bedside table, Daphne said she put something in there, and I think we might get a good laugh out of it.”

Or that it could come in handy.

“Daphne put something… in the drawer by your bed… while a boy that she suspected to be your boyfriend is at your place…”

He seems to have gotten it I suppose he isn’t so stupid, sometimes.

“Yes, she did.” 

“It’s going to be condoms, right?” he says as he opens the drawer. 

He’s all stretched to the side to reach for it. It’s annoying because he isn’t kissing me anymore, but his erection is pressed right against my thigh and that’s not so bad a sensation. 

“You tell me,” I say, laughter in my voice.

As an answer, he throws the box on the bed. “Condoms.”

I burst out laughing, and it doesn’t take him long to follow. “I mean… at least… she wants to make sure… that we… that we’re safe…” he says in between giggles. 

He’s holding himself up on his hands, his arms straight, and I can see all of his face, deformed by laughter. It’s beautiful.

Once we both calm down, his cheeks red and mine probably a very faint pink, he moves until his body is completely aligned with mine again, and he leans down. I close my eyes and wait for a kiss that doesn’t come.

“But Baz,” he says, his voice low and his mouth so close to my face that I feel his breath on my lips, which is hot in all of the sense of the term. “It’s a very thoughtful gift your stepmother gave you. I think it would be very rude and ungrateful of us not to put it to good use.”


	33. Chapter Thirty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought Simon was horny before?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me father for I have sinned
> 
> This is the first time I write graphic smut so please be indulgent it was truly an EXPERIENCE 
> 
> Posting this now is a terrible idea because that means I have to post another chapter tonight to respect my “schedule” and the next chapter isn’t ~ready~ yet but hey, it’s the middle of the afternoon so I’ve got time
> 
> This THING is also longer than my usual chapters (for reference, my chapters are most of the time 3000-3600 words long and this has 5000 words)

**Simon**

I see something flash in Baz’s eyes. It’s gone too quickly for me to get what it is but then his hands are on my chest, pushing me up until I’m sitting on my heels and he’s sitting in front of my with his legs still spread open around mine. 

“Snow, I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying,” he says and he does sound confused.

“Seeing how you reacted, I think you do.”

“Well I don’t think _you_ understand what you’re saying,” he says in that patronising voice that makes me feel like I’m the stupidest person in the world. I hate it. 

“I may not be as brilliant as you but I do know what condoms are for, thank you very much. I know what I’m saying, Basil. But you know, you can just tell me if you don’t want me,” I say with more bitterness than I mean to.

He looks surprised. Both of his eyebrows shoot up and there’s disbelief in his eyes when he says “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re always pushing me away! _Literally_ pushing me away! I… all you’ve been doing since we started this, the kissing and touching you’ve been pushing me. Because there were ‘better things to do’, and now because ‘I don’t understand what I’m saying’! Well guess what, I do know what I’m saying and it’s that I fucking want you but it looks like you don’t! And I mean if you don’t it’s _fine_ it’s not like I’m going to force you to have sex with me but just fucking tell me!”

I tried not to let it get to me, it’s just been one fucking day it make sense he wouldn’t want to have sex now but I can’t help but feel like it’s about _me._ Like he doesn’t want to have sex with _me._ Because after all, Aggie and I dated for years and she didn’t want to have sex either so I must be the problem, right? We’re bloody teenagers, all our schoolmates do is fuck -I’ve caught people giving head in empty rooms more than my eyes can handle- so why do the people _I_ date don’t want it? Am I not attractive enough? Don’t I turn them on, even a little bit? What the fuck is wrong with me? 

I feel Baz’s hands cup my face. “Merlin, no. I’m sorry I gave you this impression, I _do_ want you, Simon. Fuck, ever since I could want anyone, I’ve wanted you. I just don’t want to rush into this. I don’t want _you_ to rush into this and then regret it. I know I won’t. But I don’t want your first time with a bloke to be a bad experience for you because you did it too soon. You have to be sure you’re ready.”

“First time, full stop,” I tell him, causing him to frown. 

“What? Wellbelove and you didn’t… ?”

I shake my head. “No. Never. I never even touched her under her bra,” I chuckle. “So we definitely did not fuck.”

His eyes go wide, like he can’t quite believe. I mean I understand why. Agatha and I were a couple for a long time. 

“But I am sure, Baz, about us,” I tell him, putting my hand on his wrist, near where he’s still holding my face. My eyes bore into his, into this beautiful moon grey. “I… I’ve thought about it. You and I… doing it. Even before we really got together, I had dreams about that, dreams that were not unpleasant _at all._ I think I told you that already. Whatever. I just… I want it, Baz, I really do. I want _you._ ” His hands clench on my jaw, and I see his pupil getting wider as I say that. “And I… I mean you know me I don’t overthink stuff the way you do. I’m not going to question whether or not it’s too soon or all that bullshit you think about. That’s just how I do things, Baz. Act first think later. So really, if the only thing holding you back is how I might feel about it, well… don’t let it hold you back.”

**…**

**Baz**

_Don’t let it hold you back._

So I don’t. 

I use the grip that I have on his face to bring his lips on mine, making us fall back on the bed. His reflexes are good enough to make him throw his arms forward so that he doesn’t completely fall on me and knocks our heads together, but he’s still close enough that his chest is just over mine, with barely enough space for my hand to fit in between our bodies. I slip it under his shirt, relishing the shiver that runs down his spine at the feeling of my cold hand on his warm skin. My other hand is still on his face, my thumb stroking his cheek softly. 

I’m _trying_ to be soft, licking into his mouth slowly, moving my hand on his skin without grabbing him or scratching, but Snow has other plans. Because he’s a brute. 

He has thrown one of his legs over one of mine and he’s currently grinding against my thigh as his hands hold my hair tightly. I think he likes my hair. He’s trying to get me to kiss him more urgently, but I want to take my time. And it’s funny to see him get frustrated.

**…**

**Simon**

He’s killing me.

He’s doing everything so _slowly_ , that fucking bastard. The worst part is that I can feel how hard he is, it must be just as frustrating for him as it is for me, but no, he won’t speed things up.

I feel like we’ve been snogging forever, and I love that, it’s really fucking great kissing him, but I want _more_. 

When I pull away to breathe, I nip at his lip before pressing mine on his jaw, trailing feather light kisses along and under it, getting close to his neck but not quite on it. He loves when I kiss his neck. He avoids mine, he told me that it’d be tempting fate to put his lips on my neck but he has no problem with having _my_ lips on _his_ neck. It makes him go all soft and pliant under me. 

So I _don’t_ kiss him there.

He wanted to tease me, he’ll get teased too. Two can play this game.

I kiss him for a little longer, the little sighs that pass his lips making me think that maybe, he wasn’t doing it just to tease me but that he just likes it slow.

Fine then, I can work with slow, as long as things still head south. 

I don’t think Baz will be the one to make a move though. Probably because he doesn’t want to feel like he’s pressuring me or some stupid thing like that. It was the same with kissing, I was the one who kissed him first even though he admitted to having liked me for a long time.

So I guess if I want to go further, I have to just do it.

My mouth goes up to his ear, and I give his earlobe a lick before I whisper. “Say, Baz, how would you feel about losing that shirt? You’re way overdressed.”

“You’ll have to keep me warm, though. I get cold easily, remember?” he answers, and when I get a glimpse of his face I can see him smirking.

Good. At least that means he’s in the mood now and he won’t second guess every fucking thing because he doesn’t believe I truly want this. 

“That won’t be a problem, love,” I say, because it makes my heart do crazy things when he calls me that so I want to call him that too. 

His eyes go soft, and his hand that had just been lying there on the bed since it was no longer on my face grabs me by the back of my head to pull me into a kiss much more passionate than those before.

I’m _definitely_ going to call him love more, if it gets me kisses like this. 

“Go on, work on my shirt now, Snow,” he says as he takes his hands off me, simply waiting for me to attend him. Areshole. “And be careful, I like this one a lot so don’t you dare rip a single button. 

“If you only knew how little I care for the buttons of your shirt, Basil.”

I get on my hands and knees to crawl down his body, and then I settle back down, in between his legs, with my face over his stomach and his cock against _my_ stomach. 

I try not to think about that too much or I _am_ going to rip his buttons. And those of his trousers. And his pants. And everything in between us. 

Fuck I want him so much.

I focus on unbuttoning his shirt, as best as I can with my hands shaking slightly, and the more pale skin I can see the more I need to see. 

When I get to the last button, he pushes himself up just enough for me to completely take his shirt off.

Holy shit. I didn’t think a bloke could look so hot shirtless but fuck, I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things when it comes to what I’m attracted to, apparently. 

I press a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re beautiful,” I say against his skin, and I can feel the shiver that runs through him. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he answers, trying to stay composed, but he doesn’t sound as cocky as he did before. “Not that I can see much. You undress me but you don’t even undress yourself?”

“I thought you might do it? You know, instead of just lying there letting me do all the work,” I tease him. 

He rolls his eyes, but seconds later, my shirt is on the floor. Provocation works so well with him. 

“Better,” he comments, his index fingers slowly going down my chest, as far as Baz can reach in our position. It tickles, and I’m sure the bastard knows it because he makes his touch even lighter. 

I try to control myself -he’d be too proud if I recoiled because it tickles too much- and to be sure he’s going to stop being a nuisance, I take his wrist in my hand and pin it to the bed next to his hip.

His eyes go wide, and I hear a muffled sound, something like a moan he tried to stifle.

That’s interesting. 

I move my hand a little bit until I can intertwine our fingers. I do the same to his other hand, and in half a heartbeat, I push his hands up and use my grip on them to pin them around his head, burying them in the pillows when I lean my weight on them. My body is aligned with his again, my face close to his but not close enough that he can kiss me. His pupils are blown and his eyes shine with desire, moving between my lips and my own eyes, unsure what they should be looking at. 

He looks so beautifully overwhelmed. 

“You like that, don’t you? Me pinning you to the mattress like that. Overpowering you.”

I know that the only reason I can overpower him in the first place is because he lets me -vampire strength- so it’s not hard to understand that it’s because it’s something he likes.

He nods. 

“Answer me properly, Basil. Use your words.”

“Yes, yes I like that.”

“Good,” I say before I peck his lips. “Unfortunately, I have plans that involve my hands not being so far up your body. Do you think you could hold them there for me?”

“Yes.”

I give him a smile, and let go of one of his hands to run mine in his hair. I can’t believe how soft his hair is. Maybe those posh products he uses are a good thing. “Perfect. Stay like that then. Let me take care of you.”

**…**

**Baz**

This is a scenario straight out of my best fantasies. I’m not completely sure it’s real.

**…**

**Simon**

I make quick work of his trousers, he was eager to get rid of them, and of mine, and then here we are, both in only our underwear, in Baz’s bed.

“Snow, wait, I have to cast some spells,” he says before I can start doing anything. 

“What?”

“Spells. One to make the room sound-proof and the other to lock the door.”

Damn I didn’t think of that.

“But aren’t you not allowed to lock your door?”

“I’m not, but I’d rather get told off than have one of my sisters walk in on us,” he answers. “Can you give me my wand? It’s on the nightstand.”

“Get it yourself.”

“I’m not allowed to move my hands, remember? You told me so yourself, Snow.”

I smile at that. Bastard. 

I reach for his wand, and put it in his hand. I watch as he casts the spells, the careful way he says the words, how he moves his wand, and the little sparkles the same colour as fire that come out of it.

Even like that, practically naked on a bed, he’s so fucking elegant when he uses magic. I can’t believe only yesterday there was a chance the Coven might take that away from him. He’s the most magical person I know, in all of the senses of the word I can think of. 

Once he’s done casting the spells, I take his wand and put it back where it was. 

And then the fun begins.

I kiss him down his chest, my lips going from his collarbones to his taut stomach, passing by the softer flesh of his hips. I get my face closer to the waistband of his pants, and I hear him suck in a breath when I kiss him right next to the line of dark hair that disappears under his underwear. 

I want to tease him, to make him think that he’s getting ideas, but he _absolutely isn’t_. I want to take his pants off and really put my mouth on him. The thought makes me blush. Something like two days ago I wasn’t sure I liked blokes and now I want to suck one off.

Maybe it’s not that. It’s not that I want to suck a cock. It’s that I want to suck _Baz_ ’s cock. 

Yeah, I think that’s it. I think that if he was a girl, I’d want to go down on him just as much. 

But I’m not going to do that now. 

I want to see him on the edge, I want him trembling, begging for me to touch him like that. I can almost hear ; _Pitches don’t beg_ , but I _will_ get him to. I don’t usually back down on a challenge, and that’s a particularly lovely challenge. 

So instead, I move my mouth to the other end of his underwear, and start doing the same thing I did on his chest, but on his thigh, the right one first. I kiss a lot, but not just that. I lick a long stripe on the inside of his thigh that makes him shiver. Good. I do it again, and when I look up I can see that his hands shoot up, not against the bed anymore. They froze in the hair, on their way to my hair, when he saw me looking at him. I give him a disapproving glance as I shake my head. “I think I told you to keep your hands up there.”

“I tried,” he defends himself immediately. 

“Not hard enough, love. But I’ll give you another chance. Put them back where they belong, and _keep_ them there until I tell you, okay? If you’re good, I’ll give you a reward. How does that sound?”

“Great.”

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t know exactly what Snow’s thing with “rewards” is, but I love it.

**…**

**Simon**

He does as I say, and the moment he’s settled, I start my assault on his thighs again, but on the other one this time. I bite and lick and suck, trying to get some sort of mark to show on his skin, but even here, they always fade too fast. 

Fuck vampire healing abilites.

Is it too much to ask, to want to give my boyfriend a hickey?

But Baz seems to like that nonetheless, if the pretty sounds he makes are anything to go by, so I continue, until I feel his other thigh against my head. I wasn’t doing anything that would have caused his leg to move, so I suppose it was attentional. I press a little kiss on the spot I was biting before I look up. His hands are still where they’re supposed to be, but not as relaxed as before ; he’s holding onto the pillow. His eyes are on mine and I can read all of his frustration in them. “Are you waiting for a written invitation?” he asks shortly, trying to glare at me without much success. 

“An invitation? What for?”

“You know what for,” he mutters between gritted teeth.

“I’m not sure I do, darling. I think you should tell me.”

He takes a deep breath, clearly irritated. He’s probably debating whether or not he’s going to say it. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation to fucking blow me?”

A smile spreads on my lips. “Oh, Baz, I couldn’t do that without knowing it was okay! Consent is very important, you know.”

Not that I had any doubts about Baz’s consent ; he’s shown me how much he wanted me. It’s just fun to fuck with him.

“Well you have all my fucking consent, please proceed.”

“So impatient…” 

I kiss his hip, over the fabric of his pants. His eyes darken.

“You’ve been kissing my thighs for half a bloody hour, Snow. I’ve been patient. Stop being such a fucking tease and do _something_.”

“Hm… no.”

His head falls back against the pillow and he lets out a frustrated groan. Then I see him take a few breaths, before he looks at me again, an innocent look on his face.

“But Simon, you said if I were good you’d give me a reward. I’ve been good. Look, I didn’t move my hands, just like you said.”

That motherfucker. 

He knows how to pull my strings, doesn’t he?

I crawl up to level my face with him, and I tuck a strand of his hair back behind his ear. “It’s true, you’ve been good. So good for me, Baz.” He closes his eyes, and bites his lips to hold back a moan. “No, no, none of that, love. I want to see you. I want to hear you. Just let go, Baz.” I lean down to whisper “I want to make this good for you, so I have to know what you like, okay? So don’t hold back. That’s an order,” I add, a bit hesitant though my voice is steady and sure, because it seems to be something he’s into. His sigh when he hears the words confirms that it is, indeed, something he’s into. “If I see you trying to muffle the sounds you make, I’ll stop. Do you understand? Just enjoy yourself, Baz, don’t overthink anything. You have nothing to be self-conscious about with me.”

I know that it’s probably a pride thing, the fact that he doesn’t want me to hear him. He probably thinks it’s humiliating that he moans easily or something equally as dumb. 

It’s fucking hot, is what it is.

He nods, a faint blush on his cheeks -I love that he’s flustered enough to blush. 

I go for one last kiss, on his lips this time, that I deepen when he opens his mouth. Then, I go back where I was, making sure to brush his erection with my body as I crawl in between his legs. I stop further away from him to be able to take his pants on without too much trouble, and put my hand on the waistband.

“Is this okay?” I ask even know it is, because I want to give him some time if he wants to wait a little before being completely naked in front of me. 

“Yes. But Snow… I… I won’t be able to reciprocate,” he says, sheepish.

“What?”

“I won’t… I can’t suck you off. Fangs. So, uh… if… if you’re doing that because you want me to do it to you… maybe you shouldn’t because, well… I won’t.”

“I’m not doing it because I want you to do it to me, I’m doing it because I want to do it to you, you idiot. Come on, lift your hips.”

He does, looking away from me.

I, for one, _don’t_ look away for him as I tug on his underwear all the way down his long legs. His cock springs free and my mouth waters.

Fuck I’m so much gayer than I ever thought.

He looks glorious, of course, even there. Because he’s Baz fucking Pitch and he just has to be _perfect_. 

I throw his pants somewhere on the floor, and kneel in between his legs to look down at him. He’s still purposely avoiding looking in my direction, and his cheeks are as flushed as they get. 

**…**

**Baz**

He isn’t doing anything.

Fuck why isn’t he doing anything?

Is it the moment when he realizes he doesn’t want to have sex with another bloke?

“Holy shit, Baz, you’re gorgeous.”

Oh.

**…**

**Simon**

He eventually glances at me.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

He is. I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to be lucky enough to see him like that, to have Baz Pitch spread out on a bed in front of me, naked and wanting.

“I want you so much,” I tell him as I change positions, lying down on my stomach, holding myself up on my elbows with my face so close to his cock that each of my breaths brush it. It makes him squirm every time. “I’m gonna start, now, okay?” He gives me a timid but sure nod. “Oh and Baz, you can move your hands again.”

And then I focus my attention back on the task at hand.

Well, not _hand_ , but anyway.

How the fuck am I going to do that? I mean, I’ve seen people giving blowjobs in porn but that’s not porn that’s real life and I’m a bit confused as to how I’m supposed to fit that in my mouth. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” I hear Baz say.

“No, no, I want to. I just… Well I’ve never done that before, have I?” I say with a nervous laugh that I can’t hold back. “But I want to. Just… tell me if I do something that doesn’t feel good, okay?

“Yeah.”

I take a deep breath, and lower my head. I’m still a bit puzzled about the whole sucking situation, so instead, I lick along his shaft, feeling him tense under me. I slip my hands until they’re on each of his thighs and rub circles there as I kiss the tip of his cock, before opening my mouth and putting it around it. A strangled noise comes from Baz as I tentatively lick the tip of his cock, brushing over the slit.

The taste is a bit weird, honestly. It’s not exactly like licking skin, but it’s still similar, and the precum he’s already leaking has a bitter taste. Overall it’s not good, but it’s not bad either.

I keep going, trying to take him deeper and deeper, doing things with my tongue that must feel good because I hear him make those beautiful whimpers and gasps that drive me mad. Hearing Baz moan was hot when he was jerking off. Right now, hearing him moan because of _me_ , because he likes having his cock in my mouth, it’s a fucking out of body experience, and all of his sounds go straight to my cock. I’m achingly hard, and feeling the mattress underneath me doesn’t help because all I want to do is grind against it, but I can’t. I don’t want to come in my pants, and this is about Baz, not me. 

So instead, I focus on making _him_ come.

Crowley, I’m going to see Baz Pitch come. I’m sure he looks stunning. He always does.

**…**

**Baz**

All those years of stuffing his face have paid off.

**…**

**Simon**

Because it had to happen, I fuck up.

I try to take him too deep, and I gag when his cock hits the back of my throat. I throw my head back, coughing like a maniac, tears in my eyes. 

Baz is sitting in an instant, his hand in between my shoulder blades. “Crowley, Snow, are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” I say, still coughing a bit. “Fuck I’m a mess.”

“Nothing new about that,” he tells me, a smile tugging at his lips.

I simply flip him off. “Was it good, at least?” I ask once I’ve stopped coughing. My voice is a little raspy, but that shouldn’t last long.

“You were great Snow. It was… very pleasurable.”

“Good! Let’s keep going then. Lie back down.”

He frowns. 

“Well, it looks like it’d be a bit of a weird angle if I tried sucking you off while you’re sitting so lie back down.”

“You literally just made yourself gag.”

“Yeah, and? I’m not dead. And you haven’t come, so let’s get back to it. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“No, no, I want to.”

He still seems a bit surprised that I wouldn’t just move on to someone else, but he says as he’s told. Once he’s comfortable, I get back to it, and this time I feel his hand in my curls, stroking them, clenching when I do something he particularly likes. It’s brilliant. 

This whole thing is brilliant. Baz Pitch is panting and moaning because of what I’m doing to him. It’s like my dreams, but so much better because it’s _real._

I feel the muscles of his thighs tense at the same moment as his hand pulls my hair harder. “Snow… Snow pull away I… I’m going to come?”

Does he think he’s going to come anywhere else than on my mouth? Because if he does, he’s wrong.

I suck him harder, and I hear him groan before he presses his hand against his mouth. 

Crowley, I told him not to do that.

He whines when I pull away. “Hand off your mouth, Basil.”

He shakes his head. That’s strange. I thought he liked that whole me-giving-him-orders thing “Baz, what is it?”

He shakes his head again, not looking at me.

Oh… I think I know.

“It’s your fangs, right?”

He flushes, and that in itself is answer enough, but then he nods. 

“Baz, I don’t care. I told you, I want you to enjoy yourself. You don’t have to be self conscious about anything, and that includes your fangs. Please love, just relax. It’s not a big deal. You’re beautiful, and I… I want you, fangs or not.” _Want_ is obviously not what I meant to say, but the alternative was definitely not appropriate right now. When I’ll tell Baz I love him, it won’t be in my underwear in his bed as he’s having some sort of internal crisis about his fangs poping during sex. “They don’t change anything. I know they’re here, anyway, so why care so much about them, huh? Come on, take your hand off your mouth.”

He looks at me with apprehension and fear in his eyes, and I try to give him my most comforting smile. I bloody hate how he feels about his vampirism. I’m so fucking mad at myself for giving him shit for it all those years.

Slowly, he moves his hand, and I can see two tiny shiny white fangs pushing against his lower lip, without piercing the skin nonetheless. 

They’re really not as noticeable as he thinks.

“You’re stunning, Baz,” I tell him, before I lean down to kiss the corner of his lips.

**…**

**Baz**

I love him so much my heart is going to burst.

**…**

**Simon**

Once I’m sure that he’s not going to freak out again, I go down on him again. He seems puzzled at my determination to make him finish despite the fact that that blowjob was already interrupted twice, but he doesn’t complain.

This time, it doesn’t take long to bring him close to the edge, and when he finally comes with a moan much louder than the others, his eyes closing, he looks hotter than ever.

Feeling his come inside my mouth is a bit of a bizarre sensation, but I don’t have time to really think about it because I’m swallowing it and the sensation is gone. I’m only left with the aftertaste, more bitter and salty than what his precum tasted like. It’s not good, honestly, and I might have made a face when I first felt it on my tongue, but it’s not awful. And knowing that Baz _came in my mouth_ makes the unpleasant taste well worth it. When I move back, wiping my lips, my eyes are only on him.

He’s a spectacular sight, really, breathing heavily and flushed, his eyes shining and his hair a mess.

It’s so far from how proper he usually looks. 

I crawl next to him, lying on my side to look at his face from up close. He gives me a weak smile as he turns to me. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“My pleasure,” I smile back. Before I try to lean to kiss him, I add “I might taste a bit weird but…”

I can’t even finish my sentence ; his lips are already moving on mine, softly, slowly, just a lazy but tender kiss.

When he pulls aways, his hand slides down my body. The coldness of it feels wonderful against my burning skin. “It’s time to take care of you, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baz usually gets most of the POVs because I’m more comfortable writing him than Simon but since my Simon is overly horny, it seemed appropriate that he’d get the POVs
> 
> also it’s not the end of the scene, I’m not that cruel, but the actual... insert object number 1 inside object number 2 will be in the next chapter which will be up in a couple of hours


	34. Chapter Thirty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You already know what’s going on in this chapter. They have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baz has a major praise kink and I will die on that hill. He also has a thing for degradation but I didn’t use that here because Simon is soft
> 
> I haven’t proofread this at all, I’m sorry, but it was already a pain writing it, I’d have gone mad if I tried reading it
> 
> Make sure you’ve read the previous chapter!

**Simon**

Is this the part where we get to the actual sex?

Fuck I hope it is.

“How do you want me?” Baz asks, his fingers lightly touching my side, like he was playing piano on my hip.

“What do you mean?”

“You want to fuck me, don’t you?” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. So this _is_ the part where we get to the actual sex. Holy shit. “Or did you just blow me for the hell of it?”

“I mean, I did blow you just for the hell of it, but I surely wouldn’t mind going further. Only if you want to too, though. Don’t feel like you have to… let me fuck you,” I feel my cheeks burn when I say it. It’s surreal. In a good way, of course, but it’s still crazy that Baz… that he’d let me do that. “because I gave you a blowjob. I told you, I did it because I wanted to.”

He raises one of his stupid eyebrows, and I feel his hand moving from one hip to the other before he uses this single grip on me to make me roll on top of him, until I’m seated on the lower part of his stomach -on his bloody abs, God save me. 

Fuck he’s so strong. That’s so fucking hot. Why is it that everything he does is so fucking hot. It’s unfair.

“Tell me Snow,” he says as his hand slides up my back to go play with my hair. “Do you really think I don’t want you to fuck me?” 

“I mean, you could want it but not want it now, you know.”

“Well, I do. Want it now, I mean. I really, really, really want it now.” He pulls me down by my hair until the tip of my nose touches his. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long, Snow. Dreamt of this for so many years.” He moves his other hand up and down my spine slowly. “I don’t want to wait any longer.” He pushes my head down even more, and to the side too, for his lips to be aligned with my ear. He kisses the side of my jaw, and then “Please, Simon. Fuck me.”

**…**

**Baz**

I feel him tremble under my hand, and an ugly sound escapes his lips, like a choked moan.

When he forces his head up despite my hold on his hair, I see that his eyes are dark with desire. 

“Your wish is my command,” he says with a cheeky grin, that disappears against my lips when he kisses them.

I open my mouth immediately, giving his tongue access. That sinful tongue of his. The things he did to me with it…

I moan just thinking about it, and I’d feel embarrassed about it if I hadn’t seen how much it turned Snow on when I moaned while he was blowing me. 

He starts kissing me slower and slower, until his mouth eventually leaves mine. He peppers a few sweet kisses on my face ; my chin, my cheeks, my nose, and then he’s moving to the empty part of the bed next to me. The sudden loss of contact with him is brutal, but when I look at him and see that he’s taking his pants off, I can’t bring myself to complain about it. 

The moment his underwear slides down his cock, I feel mine hardening again. 

Fuck. I’m seeing Simon Snow’s cock. With my own two fucking eyes, I’m looking at Simon Snow undressing next to me. _For_ me. To fuck me.

This is the best fucking day of my life. 

Once he’s as naked as I am, his eyes look for mine, and when they meet, he blushes.

“Still want me to fuck you?” he asks, and his voice is confident and even a bit teasing, but I know he’s not as sure as he lets it show.

“More than ever,” I tell him, because it’s true, and because it won’t do any harm boosting his ego a little bit. 

I can stop being an arsehole to him for five minutes, he just sucked my cock. 

He smiles at that, before coming back on top of me, on all fours. “How do you want to do this? Like what position? I don’t really know anything about gay sex, to be honest, so I don’t know what would be better for you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s so sweet. I love him so much. 

“This is good. I want to see you.” 

“Ok. We stay like that then. Uh… What… What do I have to do?”

Aleister Crowley, he’s such a mess. It’s endearing really, how ignorant he is about this, and how shy he gets now, when he was sucking my cock and swallowing my come five minutes ago.

“Well, first you’d have to stretch me but I’m going to do that myself because you’re a brute and I know how to do it anyway.”

“Stretch?” he repeats, his eyes going a little wide, looking more than puzzled.

Moron.

“Did you think you’d just shove your dick in my arse like that?” His whole face turns red, even his ears and neck. “If you don’t want to hurt me, you’ll have to wait a bit, Snow. Be useful and look under my bed. You should find a box with lube in it.”

He goes even redder. I didn’t even think he could blush any more than he already did, but apparently, he can. Nonetheless, he does as I said, shifting until he’s bent over the edge of the bed, looking underneath it for the box, which gives me a wonderful view of his arse. That’s why I asked him to do that.

When he turns around, he tosses me the lube and then kneel where he is, which makes him be seated next to me and not between my legs anymore. I liked it better when he was directly in front of me, but it would have been particularly difficult and awkward fingering myself with Snow between my thighs. 

As I coat my fingers with lube, I notice Snow’s eyes fixed on them, and it suddenly hits me that I’m going to finger myself with him watching. It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. I’m sure a normal person would feel some sort of embarrassment. I just think it’s bloody hot that Snow is going to see me ready myself for him. 

But I’m disturbed, ask anyone.

I watch him gulp as I bend one of my legs and bring my hand down.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m not sure I’m allowed to watch. 

He hasn’t told me to look away, so he must be fine with it, but I don’t know, it seems so… intimate. I suppose that’s what sex is about, though. You get intimate with the other person.

So I watch, because fuck, as intrusive as it seems, it’s fucking hot what he’s doing.

I thought he’d try to make a show out of it, teasing himself, taking his time, because that would just be such a Baz thing to do, but instead, he already has one finger inside his arse, twisting it, moving it around. Before he started touching himself, Baz had shifted which gives me a very direct view of his arse, and of the way his hole stretches around his finger. I have no idea how I’m going to fit my cock in there without hurting him, honestly.

I really don’t want to hurt him.

It’s his first time too, I want it to be good for him. I think I started well with the blowjob, I don’t want to ruin it all when I fuck him. 

He spreads his legs a bit more, and I see him slipping another finger, down to a knuckle, and then slowly, very slowly, pushing it all the way inside. He whimpers when he does. 

“Does that feel good?” I ask, because I am actually as stupid as Baz thinks, apparently.

 _Does that feel good?_ Honestly Simon? With the sounds he’s making, of course it does.

“Yes,” he answers under his breath.

I see him curve his fingers, and he throws his head back a bit, lips parted. I don’t know what he just did, but that must have felt _particularly_ good. He shifts, lying more on his back than on his side, his cheek pressed against the pillow. It’s probably a better position to finger himself. He moves his fingers in a way that looks like how the blades of scissors move. I suppose that’s part of the stretching he was talking about.

Without thinking much about it, I put my hand on the small of his back, stroking it tenderly. He shoots me a soft glance when he feels it, that makes me feel all warm inside. “You’re doing great,” I tell him, even though, in truth, I have no idea if what he’s doing is good at all, but I suppose it is. 

He moans at that. 

I think he likes being praised. That wouldn’t be surprising, he’s a narcissistic prick. To prove that theory, I say “Look at you… You’re so beautiful, touching yourself like that for me.”

He bites the pillow as he groans, and I can see his flushed cheeks.

So he _really_ likes being praised. I’ll keep that in mind. 

I look at his fingers as they move inside him, retreating until they’re almost not there anymore, and then going back in and doing that thing that makes Baz go a little crazy.

Fuck I wish it were my fingers. 

“Baz… Do you think I… Do you think I could do that for you?” He stops moving his fingers and crane his neck to look at me. “I know you said you'd do it yourself, but, uh… I’d like to touch you.”

A small smile grows on his lips, and I hear a wet sound as he takes his fingers out of his arse. 

“Well, go on then. Start with two fingers, and then add a third one. Slowly, Snow, not all at once thank you very much. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

I nod. “Two fingers, then a third, okay,” I say as I reach for the lube. 

It looks fancy. I didn’t really pay attention to it, sooner, when I gave it to Baz, but it doesn’t like the cheap lube you’d find in a random shop. Of course Baz would use stupidly expensive products, even for that.

I put some on my fingers -probably too much, according to the amused look on Baz’s face, but I _really_ don’t want to hurt him, and then I step over one of his legs to kneel in between the both of them.

The position isn’t right, though. So, I put my hands on his hips and pull on them until his knees are bent, his arse in the air. I hope he won’t kick me for that.

He doesn’t kick me. 

Instead, he gasps when my hands grip his hips, moans when I manhandle him, and I see his cock twitch between his legs.

I think it’s a bit strange that someone with so much strength as him and who likes being in control so much would let me move his body like that, as if he were some sort of doll, but I suppose that just as I didn’t know a bloke would turn me on so much, I didn’t know letting me do whatever I want with him would turn Baz on this much.

Considering that, and how much he liked me pinning him down and ordering him around, I think I’m starting to figure out what he gets off on. It’s lucky, really, because I fucking _loved_ pinning him down and giving him orders, too. 

“Baz, listen to me. I don’t want you hiding your pretty face in that pillow. And I don’t want you biting down on it, either. Remember, I want to see all of you and hear all of your sounds. Just like when I blew you. Understand?”

“Yes,” he answers, already moving his head to the side. I can only see part of his face, but that’s as best as it can get with him on his stomach. God, I’m really glad he said he wanted to be on his back when I fuck him.

“Good boy,” I tell him with a smile. 

I see him close his eyes and let out a soft moan as I bend down to kiss his back, where I was touching not long before.

And then I move my fingers closer to his hole. He told me to start with two, and he was using two fingers so it’d make sense it’d fit, but I only put one finger in at first. It slides in easily, and I see why he told me to use two. I should listen to what Baz says.

So, my ring finger goes along my middle finger, and Baz sighs contentedly. His eyes are still close, I think he’s trying to just _feel._

I move my fingers carefully, trying to see how far I can get them to go, and then I try to curl them like Baz did. When they hit a certain spot, he moans and clenches his arse around my fingers, to force them to apply more pressure.

“What’s that spot?” I ask, curious. 

“Prostate,” he says under his breath. “I… Do you know what the g spot is, for women?”

“Yes.”

I did do _some_ research when I thought Agatha and I might have sex.

“Well, that’s that, but for men.”

“And it’s in the arse,” I say with disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Sounds gay.”

He snorts. “You’re an imbecile. Shut up and put a third finger.”

“Already?”

“Snow, we started going at it at least an hour and a half ago and you still haven’t come. Aren’t you getting a little impatient?”

“I like waiting.”

It’s a good kind of ache, the one I feel in my cock. 

“Well I don’t. Get on with it.”

“No. Two fingers is fine for now. If you think you’re ready for a third, that’s good, but you won’t get it until _I_ want you to have it, Baz,” I say, my hand that’s not in his arse fondling his hip where it’s holding it.

He shoots me an irritated glance, but he doesn’t complain any more than that. Instead, he rolls his hips to get some friction from my fingers.

I laugh a little, and then I go back to what I was doing. I move my fingers in and out, making sure to brush against his prostate but not directly hit it. He shivers when I do, and it’s just as great as those lovely moans that escaped him when I really touched it.

Eventually, I open the lube again to put some on my index finger, and I hear Baz sigh in relief when he hears the cap of the bottle. It makes me smile.

I do as he said, starting slowly. My finger circles around his rim as much as it can, and then, before Baz can start being a brat about it, I press my finger alongside the others carefully, only the first knuckle. He sucks in a breath when I do, that he only releases a few seconds later. “It’s okay, you can go deeper, now,” he tells me.

So I do. 

One more knuckle, and then I give him time to adjust. And then all of my finger is inside, as far as it can get. I see Baz relaxes once my three fingers are pressed deep inside of him, his shoulders digging in the mattress.

“It feels so good,” he whispers.

I think it’s the first time since we started that he says how something feels without me asking about it. Maybe he actually likes having stuff in his arse.

I mean, I knew how gay blokes have sex, but I never really thought it could feel good for the one who took it, you know? But now I have Baz, with his cheeks pinks, making sinful noises when I move my fingers, and _telling me_ that it feels good, so I suppose it does feel good. 

“But I think you’d feel better,” he adds after a moment, a bit shyly. “Please be quick. I want you.”

Fuck he’s going to kill me.

I don’t go slowly anymore. I’m still careful, but I also do my best to stretch him as fast as I can without hurting him, because Jesus Christ, I want him too.

When he tells me he’s ready, I pull my fingers away. He whines at the loss, but then, he turns around as quickly as he can with me in between his long legs, spreading them with his feet planted on the bed and his knees, once again, bent. He takes one of the pillows around his head, lifts his hips, and puts it under them before lying back down. “It’ll be easier like that,” he tells me. 

“Oh, okay. Uh… the condoms… I… should I…”

He smiles. “Snow, as thoughtful as Daphne is, she didn’t take my vampirism into account. I can’t catch or carry anything, so we’re safe, we don’t need condoms.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice I guess.”

“It is,” he chuckles. “Now get on with it.”

I look at him, unimpressed, and then I grab his wrists and pin them around his head the exact same way I did sooner, so quickly even Baz is surprised. Not in a bad way though, I know it. “Basil… You’re so commanding… Have you forgotten who was calling the shots?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Have you?” I repeat, before I bite his shoulder.

This time he gasps. “You. It’s you,” he says, his voice low.

“Exactly. So you don’t give me that attitude, understand? I promise I’m going to take care of you, love. I’m going to make you feel so good. But you have to let me do it as I please.”

He nods enthusiastically, so I give him a smile. Then, I go for one last kiss before I focus my attention back on the lower part of his body. “Your hands stay where I put them, by the way. You’re a pretty picture with your wrist around your head,” I tell him as I cup the back of both of his knees with my hands. It makes his arse move up from the pillow a bit, but he’s still mostly settled against it.

I spread his legs further, to have better access to his hole. It's stretched, and shining a little because of the lube, and holy shit, a bloody arsehole shouldn’t look so hot but here we are.

I take the bottle of lube that I had left open, and put some on my hand before coating my cock with it. I gasp when I feel my hand around my dick after it has been neglected for so long, and I see that Baz’s eyes are fixed on the hand that’s applying the lube, desire in his eyes. Good.

Once my cock is slick enough, I move my hips forward, until my tip brushes against his arse, and we both suck in a breath at the same time. 

I want to be inside him now. 

But it’s not fun if he doesn’t get a bit frustrated, so I control my urge to just start fucking him now, and rub against his hole without putting any pressure. I lean down until my mouth can reach his knee and part of his thigh, and start peppering kisses there as I move my cock up and down the cleft of his arse.

Remembering that he had liked that a lot, I suck a love bite on his thigh, and another one, and another one. My hand that’s on his other leg hooks it around my waist, to be free, and once it is, it slides up his thigh until it’s very close to his cock, but not touching it any more than my dick is penetrating him.

“Snow…” he says shortly.

“See love, if you want something from me, that’s a very bad start,” I tell him, grinning against his thigh. 

“Why do you have to be such a bloody tease?” he asks between gritted teeth.

“It’s funny,” I admit with a chuckle.

He glares at me. 

“Well, you’re the only one having fun right now. Could you just _please_ start fucking me.”

“Come on. You can do better than that. Ask again.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

This time I really laugh. It only makes him even more pissed, his eyes darkening, but not only with desire now, before he closes them, and breathes. Long, deep inspirations.

He’s clearly focusing on calming down, so naturally, I press my cock against his hole a bit more, which causes him to gasp as his eyes snap open. 

When I move back, and he realizes that I didn’t do that because I was going to finally push inside, every emotion other than pure frustration and need are washed away from his eyes.

“Please. Please Simon, it’s been so long, please stop teasing. I need you inside me, please, please, please.”

It’s a heady feeling, really, having Baz Pitch spread out in front of me, his hands around his head because I told him to keep them there, his legs open for me, begging me to fuck him with pleading eyes. Calling me by my name. I could come on the spot. 

I don’t want to deny him anything any longer, so I simply push my hips forward, watching his face as he takes the tip of my cock inside him.

Fuck, he’s still tight, even with all the stretching. 

It feels so fucking good already and there’s barely anything in.

I wait for him to nod to push inside more, until I hear him let out a plaintive whine. I immediately stop moving, looking at him with concern. “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No, just… give me some time. Are you… How much… I mean…”

“Half,” I say, because I understood what he was asking. 

“Fucking Merlin. You’re so much bigger than fingers.”

“Thanks?”

That makes him laugh, which, incidentally, make my cock move inside him. He whines again. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry,” I say sincerely, my thumb drawing circles on the skin where his hip and leg meet.

I said I didn’t want to hurt him and I meant it. I hate that he’s uncomfortable, but he said he didn’t want me to pull out, so I just stand still, waiting for his body to adapt.

My hand wanders closer to his cock, because maybe, if he’s getting some pleasurable contact, it’ll distract him from the pain in his arse, make it better for him. I told him I’d make him feel good, after all, and so far, I’m failing at that.

I put my hand around his cock, getting a choked sound out of him, and I start stroking him the way I like it. I don’t really know what _he_ likes, when it comes to this, but I suppose I can still make it work. It’s not like sucking or fucking him. Wanking, I know that. I know how it works.

Quickly, I feel him relax. “It’s okay, you can… continue,” he says.

So I do. I move my hips forward, slowly, very slowly, while still stroking his cock. I look for a sign of pain on his face, but nothing comes, and soon enough, I bottom out. 

I close my eyes, taking a few seconds to relish the feeling of being _inside_ of Baz. 

It’s _Baz’s body_ that’s making me feel so good. It’s almost surreal.

I must have been a fucking Saint in a previous life to deserve that, Baz letting me do this.

“You feel amazing,” I tell him when I open my eyes again, in time to see his eyes go wide. “Really Baz, you feel so great. I… Nothing’s ever felt that good before.”

He doesn’t answer anything, but I know it must feel good for him too, because he isn’t tense anymore, and he had a pleased look on his face before I closed my eyes.

“Can I move?”

“Please.”

Crowley, he has to stop with that word. 

Much more slowly than I want to, to make sure it’s not too much for him, I move my hips back, staring at his face the whole time. His lips are parted slightly, his eyes closed. I wish he kept them open. When I push back in, he moans. 

Fuck, finally.

Progressively, I go faster and faster, trying to hit that spot that makes him groan, but it’s not _enough._ I’m inside him but he’s still so far.

I have to change that. I slip my hands under his knees again to put them on my shoulders. It makes him open his eyes, to look at me with curiosity in his eyes, but then I’m leaning until I can rest my elbow on either side of his face, next to his own elbows, and he seems to get it. 

The change in position also makes my cock shift inside him, which makes the both of us moan.

“You were too far away,” I tell him, staring into his eyes. 

I expect him to sneer or tell me I’m an idiot, something very _Baz,_ but instead, he just reaches for my hands from under, intertwining our fingers. “Better.”

“You’re right, love. Better,” I tell him before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. 

When he closes his eyes again, I begin moving my hips and _holy fucking shit_ it’s so much deeper in this position. It feels even better. I didn’t think it _could_ feel better.

It must be for him too, because he throws his head back with a silent moan.

He looks glorious.

After that, I move my hips, deep but not fast. I don’t want to go fast anymore. I’m not going to last much longer -which is rather pathetic, we didn’t start very long ago- and I want to make the most of it. 

The first time I hit his prostate, he arches his back, getting impossibly closer to me, his chest pressed against mine. I try to hit it with each thrust, and almost succeed.

He looks like I’m making him feel as good as I feel, though I hardly believe it’s even possible to feel as good as I do. I thought I knew pleasure before, I jerked off plenty of time, but it’s fucking _nothing_ next to feeling the heat of Baz Pitch’s body around my cock.

It’s strange, to think of heat and Baz at the same time, but he isn’t cold _there._

As I feel myself getting close to the edge, I squeeze his fingers, leaning my head down until my lips are just over his. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper. “You’re so stunning, love. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you. You’re so amazing, so perfect for me Baz, I… I…”

His lips are on mine before I can finish my sentence. The kiss is a mess of tongue and teeth and lips, but he puts so much emotion, in it, so much… love.

Yes, I think that’s what it is.

This, what we have right now, what we’re doing… It’s so much more than sex.

It’s love.

We’re making love.

I wish I could tell him. 

I wish he hadn’t stopped me.

I wish I wasn’t so fucking afraid of telling him.

I wish…. I wish I could say…

**…**

**Baz**

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

**…**

**Simon**

Before I know it, I’m coming inside of Baz.

Holy shit, I’m coming _inside of Baz._

I feel him kiss my shoulder as I keep fucking him through my orgasm. I want to reach down to jerk him off, but when I try to move my hand away from his, he grips it harder.

“I’m close,” he whispers as an explanation.

And indeed, only a few seconds later, his head falls back on the pillow. It gives me perfect access to his gorgeous pale neck, that I bite, and lick, and kiss as he comes in between our bodies. I can’t see him, but it doesn’t matter, I’ve seen him come before, and I’ll have many other occasions to see him, or at least I do hope I will. 

When I move back to look at him, I see tears on his face.

Ok, what?

What the fuck did I do wrong.

We just had sex he isn’t supposed to be crying!

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I shift to be lying next to him and not right on top of him because I don’t want him to feel suffocated by my presence, but I stroke his cheek, wiping the tears off. It’s useless, others just keep coming. “Baz? Hey, love, what is it?” I ask him softly.

The question just makes him tear up more.

“I… I… It’s… You… I… I just… Simon, I… I…” A sob escapes his lips and I feel my heart clench in my chest. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? “Fuck!” he swears and he pushes himself up, almost jumping out of the bed.

I don’t move. I’m petrified. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, what I should do.

What do you do when the bloke you like starts sobbing after you just fucked him?

He looks around the room for his clothes a bit hysterically, his hands trembling and sobs he’s holding back making his shoulders shake. I want to go to him, to hold him, but he quite literally just ran away from me so I don’t think that’s the right thing to do.

“Baz, please talk to me.”

“I just.. I… I… Later,” he says, his voice quivering, and then he’s rushing to the bathroom.

He locks the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry


	35. Chapter Thirty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three little words...

**Baz**

This was a mistake.

Not having sex with Simon, I can’t bring myself to regret that, the was so wonderful. He was so sweet and caring, but a bit dominating too. He was perfect. 

No, the problem, it’s doing it so soon.

I thought I could handle it. I thought it wouldn’t feel so… _too much_. I thought I would be too lost in pleasure to be sentimental.

I was so fucking wrong.

I wanted to tell him I loved him the whole time, especially when he was inside me. 

It didn’t feel like _fucking_ , it felt like _making love_. 

It felt like making love and it made me want to tell him.

And now I’m crying like the pathetic fool I am, alone in my bathroom, while Snow is in the next room, worrying about me.

I fucking hate myself.

I know I freaked him out, crying and fleeing him like that, but I just couldn’t bear to feel his eyes on me, to hear the concern in his voice.

I was so close to letting the words slip.

Maybe he wouldn’t have minded.

He likes it when I call him love, after all.

But would he say it back?

No, of course he wouldn’t.

Fucking hell, I’m ridiculous. It’s not because he tells me nice things and wants to fuck me that he _loves_ me. He likes me, that’s more than enough. It’s more than I _deserve_. I should be satisfied with that. 

But I can’t.

Not after he made me feel so important, so cherished when our bodies were moving in unison.

**…**

**Simon**

It’s been 15 minutes and he’s still in there. I wanted to give him some privacy, but it’s been too long and I’m too fucking confused about what just happened. 

If I had fucked up, he could have just told me instead of leaving like that. 

“Baz? Baz let me come in, please. I’d like to talk to you,” I ask, knocking on the bathroom door.

I expect rejection, honestly. So when I hear the door unlock, it startles me. Nonetheless, I don’t miss the opportunity, and walk inside the bathroom once Baz opens it widely enough. I notice that he’s put his trousers and shirt on, but that he hasn’t fixed his hair and that he has tear tracks on his cheeks.

I take his hands in mine. He recoils at the touch a little bit, at first, but quickly gives in and lets me hold his hands.

“Baz, what happened? Did I do something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry, but please tell me so that I won’t do it again.”

He gives me a sad smile, shaking his head. “No. It’s not… It’s me, not you. You were great, Snow. Really. I’m… very grateful that this is how my first time went. And I’m sorry I ruined yours with my stupid crying,” he chuckles, not looking at me.

My thumb starts rubbing the back of his hand absentmindedly. “It’s not stupid, whatever the reason, it’s not stupid. And you didn’t ruin anything. Sure I would have preferred to stay in bed with you and tell you how beautiful you are for a bit longer, but you didn’t ruin anything. It was so amazing, you couldn’t possibly have ruined that with a few tears.”

“Are you sure? I could cry some more just to prove you wrong, you know that?”

He’s being a prick again, that’s good. If he can get on my nerves, that means he’s doing better. But he still hasn’t answered the question.

“Please don’t,” I tell him, laughing softly. “But please tell me why you cried in the first place. And don’t tell me it’s not any of my business! My cock was in your arse when you started crying, Basil. I’d say it _is_ my business.”

That makes him snort. “Let’s go back to the room, ok? I… I don’t want to do this in the bathroom.”

**…**

**Baz**

I’m going to do it.

I’m going to tell him.

Fuck the consequences, the words have been on my lips for years, and even more in the last few days. I’m not sure I can hold them back much longer, and I don’t want them to be said accidentally, because I’m overwhelmed, like they almost were after I came. 

I’d rather have control on how I tell Simon Snow that I love him for the first time.

**…**

“So? What was it? You really scared me, you know,” Snow tells me once we’re sitting on the sofa.

I avoided the bed on purpose.

I don’t want to get back in the bed where I _had sex with Snow_ just now.

“I’m sorry, it was really not my intention, but I was panicking and I only thought about myself. I… The thing is… We made love, didn’t we? It wasn’t just fucking?” I ask, because I have to be sure. I’m not sure I can carry on with this if he tells me it was indeed just fucking to him.

His cheeks take a pretty pink tint as he smiles. “Yes, I’d say we did. That’s how it felt like, anyway. It really felt… special. Not what I thought sex would be like.”

Thank Merlin, I wasn’t the only one to feel this way. Maybe it felt this way because…

“It felt special for me too,” I admit.

“It did?” he asks excitedly, his eyes gleaming. Crowley, he’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. “I was a bit worried it wasn’t good for you the way it was for me, you know. I mean… you… Well you weren’t the one fucking me, were you? So I… I was afraid you might not have liked it that much.”

Eight snakes, he’s such a mess. It’s a good thing I am too.

We match in that way.

“Don’t worry, your ego is safe, you fucked me well.”

“That’s not what I mean, you prick,” he groans, punching my arm. “It’s not about my ego, it’s about making you feel good. If I’m having sex _with_ you it’s because you enjoying yourself matters to me as much as my own pleasure. Whatever. You still haven’t told me why you cried.”

“Whose fault is that? You keep distracting me,” I tease him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything, probably not to prove me right about how he’s ‘distracting me’. 

I take a deep breath, trying to summon the courage not to chicken out. 

What do I risk anyway?

Snow laughing at me.

Snow rejecting me.

Snow breaking up because I’m moving too fast.

…Ok maybe I shouldn’t think about the worst-case scenario.

“So. We made love. And I… It… It meant a lot to me. You made me feel so… You made me feel like I was the most precious thing in the world, and I… The way you made me feel, and the way you made love to me… it fucked with my brain because… because…”

Fuck it’s so hard to say.

I’m usually good with words, I never thought getting three little ones out would be so difficult.

“Because what?” he asks encouragingly.

So here it is. The moment I’ve imagined a million times, happening in a million different ways over the years.

His eyes bore into mine, and I melt. I can’t think when I’m staring at this beautiful blue. That may be helpful in this particular situation.

“Because I love you,” I blurt out.

I close my eyes the moment the words are out of my mouth. I don’t want to see his reaction. Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it. I’m pretty sure it’s going to hurt.

“You… you do?” he says. His voice doesn’t let anything show, except surprise. No negative nor positive feelings.

“I do. I have for a long time, to be honest. And I understand that you don’t share my feelings, I’ve liked you for years and you have only recently started to tolerate me…

“Baz.”

“I’m not asking anything from you. I also understand if you want to end things between us because I’m moving too fast for you…

“Baz.”

“...It was unfair to even agree to date you without telling you about the depth of my feelings. I knew that we were starting this relationship with very different feelings and I kept it to myself…”

“ _Baz._ ”

“...because I was too happy that you’d want to be with me to make you want to regret it, but now I s…”

I can’t finish my sentence because Snow has grabbed the back of my head and he’s kissing me like his life depends on it. My eyes snap open, and I see that his are full of emotions I’ve never seen in them, something that, overall, looks awfully tender. It makes my heart beat faster.

Is it possible that…?

When he eventually pulls away, he cups my face, and looks deep into my eyes. “Are you going to let me speak, now? Because if you did before instead of going on with your little rant, you would have known that your feelings are not unrequited.”

Snow knows the word unrequited?

“I beg your pardon?”

I see him take a deep breath, that he lets out shakily, nervous.

“I… I think I’m in love with you, Baz.” I’m going to die. No, that’s not right, I’m _already_ dead and this is heaven. “It’s just… I don’t really know what love feels like. What I feel for you, it’s so different from anything I could feel for anyone else before, and I thought I was in love in the past, so I don’t know if my feelings for you are love or not, but I… I believe they are. And even if they’re not… I know that I could love you. I… It took me a long time to realize why it was so, but I’ve always needed you in my life, Baz, ever since I met you, you became one of the people my eyes immediately look for in a crowded room. And I know that I’ll keep needing you, because just the thought of you not coming back to me, when you had your trial, it made me go mad. So yeah, it… it may not be love, but you matter to me, a lot. I’m sorry if it’s not enough, it’s all I can give you right now.”

Not enough? It’s so much more than I ever dared dreaming of.

“Snow… Do you really mean all of that?” I ask, my hand going to find his, almost on its own accord.

I love holding hands with him. I love doing _anything_ with him, of course, but there’s such intimacy in the fact of holding hands with someone, without it having any sexual undertone like a lot of other intimate acts, I think it’s beautiful.

He nods. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, Baz. I’ve told you that a lot today, but I don’t want to hurt you. That includes your feelings. I wouldn’t purposely do anything to hurt you. I may say stupid things that you don’t interpret the way I mean them, but that’s just what I do, you know,” he says, an adorable smile on his face.

It’s hard to believe he’s the same boy who sucked my cock like a porn star and pinned me to the bed sooner this evening. 

It’s hard to believe he just said all of that. It’s hard to believe he _means_ all of that.

I matter to him. He needs me in his life. He thinks he is in love with me. And some time ago, he made love to me.

This is the best day of my life, without the shadow of a doubt.

**…**

After that, we both take our clothes off again to put on pyjamas, and we get to bed. It’s still early, but none of us wants to be responsible and leave the room long enough to go downstairs in order to get us food, so instead, we just cuddle in bed, watching a movie on my laptop and eating some of the snacks that are left in my room from the summer -magic does wonders when it comes to conserving food so that it doesn’t ever turn bad. 

Snow insists on watching Twilight. I tell him to kindly fuck off, and instead, I go look for Titanic because he’s never seen it, and it’s long so it’s going to get us through the evening and the beginning of the night. And because Leonardo DiCaprio’s in it.

When the film ends, Snow is dozing off on my shoulder. I suppose it’s tiring to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning, go through some sort of very intense panic attack, and shag your boyfriend for _a long time_ all in the same day. Well, tiring for him, at least, because I, for one, am not tired at all. I already know I won’t be able to sleep tonight, despite how much I’d need it. Too much happened today, I have too many things on my mind to fall asleep. If I could have fallen asleep, it would have been with my head leaning against Simon’s listening to his soft snoring.

So instead of staying in bed doing nothing, I carefully get out of it, making sure to rest Snow’s head in a pillow in a way that won’t make his neck hurt in the morning. I put my laptop away, grab the first warm top I can find -the cardigan I was wearing today- and head out. 

I have to feed, anyway.

**…**

I’m in the kitchen, drinking coffee to wash the taste of blood off my mouth. If I’m honest, it’s a good taste. Especially since tonight’s… _snack_ consisted of a few rabbits, and that their blood is particularly tasty in comparison to rat blood. But I just don’t like feeling the aftertaste in my mouth. It reminds me of what I did, of what I have to do to sustain the creature I am.

So here I am, with coffee much too bitter for my taste -I like it with a lot of milk and sugar, but I need the caffeine to stay up without being completely useless tomorrow, so I drink it without anything in it. If my education didn’t hold me back, I’d be drinking it straight out of the coffee maker.

I look around the kitchen as I drink, sitting on the large marble counter in the centre of it, trying to focus my attention on something. 

My eyes stop on one particular item; it’s a bright green notebook that has always been in the kitchen, for as far as I can remember. My mum didn’t have a lot of free time, but when she did, she loved baking, so she had this book where she wrote down recipes. After she died, it just stayed in the kitchen because no one cared enough to move it to her office with the rest of her belongings. 

I take a few mouthfuls of my coffee, and then I’m up again, crossing the kitchen to go and get the notebook. 

I open it, and I feel a smile grow on my face as I see my mother’s handwriting. It always feels heart-warming, to hold something that was hers. It makes her more really, to touch something she touched too. 

I flip through the pages, looking at the recipes, until I find one that seems simple enough and doesn’t require too much ingredients. I’m not shit at baking -it’s not my first sleepless night spent in the kitchen- but I’m not great either. Let’s hope I don’t mess it up.

 **…**

I’m almost done cutting, circles, stars, and hearts in the dough I made with biscuit cutters when I hear footsteps. I glance at the red digits on the oven and see that it’s 2:48, who in the name of Merlin is up this early? Crowley, I hope it’s not one of the little ones. They won’t want to go back to bed if they see me here. 

But it’s not one of my sisters. It’s their mother, in her nightgown, her eyes too wide open for someone who just woke up.

“Basil, it’s 3 a.m.,” she tells me with a smile tugging at her lips as she stares at my biscuits. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I say with a shrug. I spend too much time with Simon Snow. “I might as well do something productive. Why are you up?”

“Your sister was hungry. She decided she wasn’t tired after she was done eating, though, so I played with her a little bit until she exhausted herself, but the problem is that I’m too awake to go back to sleep right now. Do you mind if I stay with you? I was going to watch something on the television, but since you’re up too, I thought we could spend some time together.”

I hum. “Yes, of course you can stay.”

It’s not like I’m going to kick her out of the kitchen. She lives in this house more than I do, and I don’t mind Daphne’s presence anyway.

She doesn’t say anything else, so I go back to cutting my biscuits. I only have a little bit of dough left, so it shouldn’t take much longer. It’s a good thing Daphne came ; she’s going to keep me entertained for a while. The biscuits didn’t take as long to make as I thought they would, and sunrise is still far away.

I hear her move around the kitchen, opening the fridge and some cupboards. She pours some liquid in something, and then she opens the microwave. As whatever she puts in it heats up, she yawns and says “Here’s a piece of advice for you, Basil. If you ever have a baby, make sure to put your husband on feeding duties and not to be the only fool waking up at night like I am.”

I chuckle. She already complained about that when Mordelia was a baby. I understand why ; it must not be very fun waking up every night to a screaming, famished baby. “Don’t take offense, but you chose not to give Octavia formula,” I tell her, placing biscuits on the tray. 

The microwave beeps. “Well, it was a stupid choice. I already told your Father that if we have another baby, this one will have formula and _he_ will feed them at night.”

I immediately turn around to look at her, a biscuit still in my hand. Her back is on me, so I can’t see what she’s doing quite well, but the box of cocoa powder is on the counter in front of which she is. 

“Father and you are planning on having another baby?”

Crowley when are these people going to stop?

“I wouldn’t say planning. We’re not going to try to have one ; Octavia is still an infant and the girls are a lot of work, but you know, if it happened, we wouldn’t be against it. I’ve always wanted a big family, and Malcolm likes having little ones around more than he cares to admit.”

I try _very hard_ not to think about my parents doing what they would need to do for it to “happen”.

I nod. “Oh, okay. I suppose I assumed Octavia would be the last one. But then again, I thought you wouldn’t have another baby after the twins.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply turns her head to give me a smile, so I leave her to do her thing and go put the trays -two of them, I made a lot of dough- on the counter. I’ll put them in the oven later so that the kids -and Snow- can eat them for breakfast. 

“Hot chocolate?” Daphne says from behind me.

When I turn around, I see that she’s handing me a steaming cup. She has one for herself on her other hand. 

“Thank you,” I say as I take the cup, relishing the feeling of warmth under my fingers.

It really is like touching Snow.

I bring the cup to my lips, taking a sip that burns my tongue and throat. Daphne seems to disapprove of the fact that I’m not waiting for the drink to cool down, casting me an exasperated glance. 

She treats me like one of the children, sometimes. I’m not sure she realizes I’m 18.

“Your door was locked, earlier,” she tells me after a second. “I asked Mordy to call Mr Snow and you for dinner and she told me you weren’t answering and she could not open the door. I told you I didn’t want you to lock yourself in here,” she says with some worry in her voice.

I know that she’s not worried about what I was doing with my door locked _today_ , she’s smart enough to figure it out on her own, but that she’s thinking back on the reason why she established that rule in the first place and that it’s what is causing the concerned line on her forehead.

The summer after fifth year wasn’t a fun time for me.

“I’m sorry, I needed to be able to keep the girls out and they have a nasty habit of coming in without knocking.”

“I assumed so. I understand. Which is why I think I could allow a change in the rules. I suppose that this won’t be the only time Mr Snow will be staying here, so when he’s home with you, you can lock your door after dinner and until the morning. When you’re alone nothing changes, though.”

I think my stepmother is a bit too supportive of my relationship with Snow. 

“Oh, thank you.”

“I’ve been a teenager too, once,” she says, hiding her smile with her cup as she takes a sip.

“A long time ago,” I tease her. She deserves it. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to embarrass me by alluding to Snow and I having sex.

An exaggerated look of shock washes over her face and she puts her free hand over her heart. “How dare you! Weren’t you taught not to comment on a lady’s age, young man?”

“Forgive me, I meant no harm,” I tell her with a smile.

“You’re forgiven. For now. But Baz, more seriously, why are you still up? You told me you couldn’t sleep, but why is that? Is there something on your mind?”

You could say that.

I put my cup down on the counter, sighing. Daphne comes closer to me.

“It’s just that the last days have been a lot. Ever since Father called me about the trial, but especially since yesterday… so much has happened. It feels like it was a century ago that I was nervously getting ready for my audience with the High Court, when really, it was yesterday. I’ve gone through so many different, intense emotions in the span of less than 48 hours, and whenever I thought I would finally get some rest, something new happened and it’s… It’s all very overwhelming. I feel like my head is going to explode whenever I let myself think, so I try to keep myself busy so that I’m thinking, but not about anything that happened today and yesterday. Which is why I’m here, making biscuits at 3 in the morning instead of being sound asleep in my bed.”

Daphne gives me a small, sad smile, before she reaches out to rub my arm. I can see that she’s holding herself back, like she’d want to do more than just stroke my arm. “I hope things will get a little less intense from now on.”

“I hope so too. I’m exhausted,” I say, my voice weaker than I want it to, my shoulders hunching a little bit as I put my hands against the counter to lean against it.

I’m truly exhausted. In every meaning of the word. 

I hear the porcelain of Daphne’s cup hitting the marble of the counter before I see her step in front of me, her hands empty and her arms slightly open. An invitation.

Daphne doesn’t hug me much. If you forget that time after my trial, it had probably been at least a year since she last hugged me. I think it’s because she’s still unsure about what the limits are with me. What she’s allowed or not allowed to do. 

I wish I could tell her that I don’t mind anything she does. That I love all of her tender, maternal gestures. That I long for them, really, because I craved this kind of affection my whole childhood. But I can’t tell her. I already feel bad enough when I think of how much I love it when Daphne treats me like I’m her son, I’d feel too guilty if I told her. It feels like betraying my mother, to need this kind of love from another woman.

But the moment Daphne puts her arms around me softly, I feel this amazing rush of warmth and comfort coursing through me and I forget my guilt for a moment, letting go in her embrace.

I’m taller than her, the top of her head barely reaches my chin, but she still manages to put one of her hands in my hair, stroking it slowly. She doesn’t say anything. I don’t need her to. 

Eventually, she lets go of me, moving back. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A bit. Thank you, Mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I love Daphne XD


	36. Chapter Thirty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should know how it goes now, two nice, chill chapters before shit goes down again because the boys deserve a little break

**Simon**

When I wake up, Baz is nowhere to be seen.

Shit, have I overslept? It’s entirely possible, I was so tired yesterday. I’m surprised Baz didn’t wake me up when he did, though. Or maybe he wanted some time away from me and that’s why he didn’t wake me up. I hope it’s not that. I don't want Baz to grow distant. He was never distant with me, even when we hated each other. Now I wonder if it’s because he liked me and liked being with me, even if it meant fighting and being with a version of me that only ever throws insults and accusations at him.

That version of me fucking sucks.

I get out of bed and head to the bathroom, taking my bag on the way. Yesterday, I stayed in my pyjamas to go down for breakfast, but yesterday was different. Yesterday Baz was sleeping and I didn’t want to bother him, and yesterday I hadn’t slept in just my pants.

So I have to put actual clothes on.

His bathroom is so fancy for no reason. I understand the rooms being all posh and classy, you spend a fair amount of time in your room, but the _bathroom_. Though Baz does spend a lot of time in the bathroom. Annoying git.

Sharing a room with Baz Pitch was bearable, even when we were at our worst. Sharing a bathroom with Baz Pitch has always been torture.

I close the door behind me, and when I turn around to take in my surroundings a bit better, I notice all of his posh products that he hides, at school. He’s got so many of them, I have no bloody idea what they’re for nor how he can remember in which order to use them. I only have liquid soap for my body and shampoo for my hair, and I still get the bottles mixed up sometimes.

Maybe I should take a shower. I didn’t take one yesterday so I’m really gross right now, but I feel like Baz is going to murder me if I touch his things, so maybe I should ask him before I take the shower. But it’d be stupid to put clothes on to take them off moments later, take a shower, and then put them on again.

So I suppose I’m going to risk Baz’s wrath.

I discard my underwear on the floor, and step inside the shower. There are a few towels right next to it, so I don’t have to worry about that. I turn the water on, purposely standing under the cold spray. It makes me shiver, which finishes to wake me up, before it turns warmer. I just let the water run over my body for a moment, enjoying the way it makes the tenseness in my muscles disappear, before I reach for one of Baz’s products, trying to find the label that reads body wash. After taking two bottles that were not for your body, I finally find the right one, and squeeze some into my hand. I’m immediately surrounded by the scent, this scent I’ve always associated with Baz. 

It only hits me now that I’m going to smell like Baz. Penny is _so_ going to understand that we’re together if the smell doesn’t wear off by the time we get back to Watford, and it probably won’t. It doesn’t on Baz, anyway, but maybe that’s because Baz doesn’t have a smell of his own, and because the bastard doesn’t sweat -I’m a bit annoyed by that. I’d have liked for him to be all sweaty when he was underneath me last night.

Last night…

I blush just thinking about it. I was so bloody shameless with him. I feel like I’m always like that when I’m alone with him. He makes me think with my dick.

I make quick work of washing myself, and the moment I step out of the shower, I wrap one of the towels around me. Merlin, it’s so soft. It feels more like a blanket than a towel. Rich people really have nice stuff.

Once I’m dry, I put my clothes on, and look at myself in the mirror. I’ve put the shirt Baz didn’t let me wear yesterday. Maybe he’ll think I should wear something lighter and give me another one of his shirts to wear. I’d like that. 

Now there’s my hair. 

I usually just let it do its thing because it looks a mess, but not too much of a mess. Today, it’s a disaster. Great. I can’t go downstairs like that, Baz is going to be a prick about it.

So I start looking for a hairbrush. There’s this big piece of furniture with five drawers on the side of the sink, there may be one there.

I crouch in front of it, and open each drawer one by one, and what I find in the top one surprises me. Makeup. I’ve never seen Baz wear any. I would have bloody remembered it if he’d ever worn makeup in front of me. Is it something he only does when he’s at home? I’ll have to ask him about that.

It’s on the third drawer that I finally find something that could help me with my hair situation, but as I reach for the brush, I remember Agatha’s offended cry, at Christmas last year, when I had tried to take her hairbrush to use it on my hair. She said it’d ruin my curls and that I should just leave them like that.

I trusted her judgment, she knows much more about this kind of stuff than I do.

Shit, why didn’t I remember that before I started looking. It would have saved me some time.

I don’t end up using any of Baz’s things on my hair, but I do try to make it look a bit better, with just my fingers. It mostly fails. I eventually give up. 

I could always ask Baz. He seems like the type of bloke who knows about hair.

Not because he’s gay. Because he’s Baz. He’s always taking care of his hair, so he should know about hair in general, right?

**…**

When I walk inside the living room, on my way to the kitchen, I get stopped in my tracks by the sight in front of me. Baz is still in his pyjamas, sitting on the sofa with one of the twins -also in their pyjamas- on each side of his body. He’s got his left hand in Ophelia’s hair, and he’s keeping Cordelia close to him with his right hand on her back. Both girls are resting their heads on his shoulders, and Ophelia is sucking her thumb. Mordelia is here too, sitting on the floor in between Baz’s legs, hugging one of them with her head pressed against his knees. They’re all staring at the television screen, though I doubt Baz is thrilled by the cartoon the girls are watching. 

He looks so tired. Did he wake up late, or did he not sleep at all? I hope it’s the former. He already sleeps so little, he can’t just pull an all nighter like that, he’s going to faint sooner or later if he doesn’t get a good night’s sleep.

Baz’s obvious tiredness aside, they’re a pretty picture, and not one I could have imagined seeing in a million years only a few days ago. I was so shocked when I found out Baz had siblings, but he seems good with them, though I haven’t seen him interact with them much yet. He’s been too busy with me to spend time with the girls. Maybe that’s why they’re all together right now, and why they’re clinging to him like he’s going to disappear if they let go of him.

“Hey, everyone,” I say to make them notice me. 

They all turn at me at the same time, which is rather comical, but if I’m being honest I’m only watching Baz. When our eyes meet, he gives me a soft smile. “Hi, Snow.” Then he frowns “Why do you smell like me?”

Well he noticed it quickly. I’m not even that close to him. Vampire smell, I guess. “I took a shower, so I used your ridiculously fancy soap. Are you angry? I know you hide your things so that I won’t touch them back at school.”

“I’m not angry, just… surprised. It’s strange to smell this on you. But anyway, slept well? You fell asleep pathetically only 2 hours into the film last night.”

“Shh, I was tired. And as for how I slept… better than you, for sure. Did you even sleep at all?” I ask as I head to the couch, sitting next to Cordelia. She doesn’t seem to mind. The girls went back to watching their cartoon right after they said hello to me.

“I’m currently functioning on a lot of caffeine and sheer determination,” Baz says.

“You have to sleep, Baz.”

“I couldn’t. I will tonight, I promise. I’ll probably collapse in bed the minute we’re back in our room.”

Our room. It really has a nice ring to it. 

Baz’s hand moves from Cordelia’s back slowly to rest, palm facing up, on my thigh. I hold it. His parents aren’t here, after all, and he doesn’t push me away so I suppose it’s fine. 

“When are we leaving, by the way?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to go by train but Daphne said she’d drive us. I think she’s trying to get some time away from all the screaming that goes on here with the little ones.”

“I mean, I don’t blame her. When I’m with the babies at the care homes, they suck all of my energy out. I don’t know how your stepmum does that every day all year long.”

“She likes it, for the most part. But I don’t get it either. Kids are so draining,” he says, absentmindedly stroking Ophelia’s hair. 

“Do you want kids? I mean, in the future, you know. Because up until now I didn’t really picture you as the family kind of bloke but now I’m not so sure anymore.”

The question seems to take him aback. He raises one of his eyebrows, and says “I never really gave it much thought. Since I figured out that I was gay… I suppose I assumed it wouldn’t be for me. The whole, having a family and children thing. I won’t ever have the wife to make those children with, will I?”

“Gay people can have children. There’s adoption.”

I know a few kids who got adopted by gay couples. 

Baz sighs, settling more comfortably on the couch. “I know that, Snow, I’m not stupid. But adoption isn’t really a thing that’s done in our World. As you know, mages don’t usually abandon their kids, so there are no magickal children that could be adopted, and I think it would be… strange to have a child who can’t do magic.”

I know I shouldn’t talk about this kind of stuff with Baz. He still has the same outdated ideas as he did before he stopped being such an arsehole all the time.

“Normals are people just like you, Basil.”

“Snow. Take those pink coloured glasses you see the world through off and see things for what they are. Normals are _not_ people like me, like us. We’re magic, Snow. We’re closer to faeries than we are to Normals. So many things in my life revolve around magic, even simple things, and Normals can never have that. So no, Snow, Normals aren’t people like me. Besides, that’s not how I meant it. Well, partly, but also, can you imagine how it would be like for the child? Daddy can do magic but they can’t? Back when Watford wasn’t so… inclusive and not everyone could go, low mages resented their more powerful siblings who got to go to Watford, and they _still_ had magic. A Normal child in a family of mages… it would be a terrible idea.”

I hadn’t thought about that. But Baz did. Of course he did.

“You’re right,” I admit, a bit reluctantly. He gets too cocky when I tell him he’s right. I can already a smirk grow on his face. Prick. “I didn’t think about that. I think it’s the orphan in me that took over for a moment. I… I suffered so much from the fact that I didn’t have a family my whole childhood, hearing you say you wouldn’t even consider adoption… I suppose it hit a nerve,” I admit with a short laugh. “It reminded me that no one ever wanted to adopt me, I guess.”

Baz’s expression immediately turns sombre. Shit. That really wasn’t what I was trying to do. 

Penny is like that too, she gets all sad when I talk about my childhood. I should have learnt to completely avoid the topic, but I always forget that it actually makes people sad when I talk about it. It’s just my life, you know? I’m not saying that it made me suffer because I want people to pity me, I’m saying it because it’s true. But it doesn’t matter now, it’s over, so I don’t understand why it still does that to them.

“Anyway,” I say, trying to think of something else to talk about. “I’m hungry, have you had breakfast already?”

“I have. But there are biscuits in the dining room. I made them. You can go get some,” he says, pointing at the room behind us as he talks. “There’s no one in there so you should be able to survive on your own.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you _made_ biscuits?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

“You, Baz Pitch, know how to make biscuits?”

“I can follow a recipe without messing it up. I’m not you.”

“Eff off,” I say, squeezing his hand too tight in retaliation before I let go of it and stand up.

I’m getting better at not swearing around the kids, even though I’m 99% they wouldn’t even notice if I did.

**…**

His biscuits are bloody delicious. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Say, Baz,” Snow says when he comes back from the dining room. He sits where he was before he left, and quickly, our hands find their way back together. “I found something in your bathroom.”

What did this idiot stick his nose in? “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific if you want me to understand what you’re talking about.”

“Makeup. It’s makeup I found.” Fuck. Is he going to make fun of me? Blokes wearing makeup is something that happens more and more, but you can never know how Snow feels about anything before he voices his opinion on it. He has such strange thoughts and beliefs, sometimes. “I didn’t know you wore makeup.”

“I don’t. Not often, at least. It’s only for some occasions. When I go clubbing with Dev and Niall, more specifically.”

“Clubbing?” he repeats, his eyebrows furrowing. “You mean, like, in gay bars?”

Crowley, save me. What did I do to deserve this? 

If there’s one person I don’t want to talk to about the clubs, it’s Snow. Especially considering that the main reason I went there, if you forget Dev forcing me, is to try and convince myself that there are other men than Simon Snow who are worth my interest. It never worked. The boys and I went partying in London countless times, and I never found a bloke I wanted enough to do so much as kiss him.

“Where do you think? We’re all queer, Snow. Of course in gay bars,” I tell him, putting as much boredom as I can in my voice, hoping he’ll drop the topic.

“I can’t believe you went to gay bars,” he says, his eyes shining with amusement. “How did your parents even let you go there?”

“Father pretended I was just going to a party with Dev and Niall, and Daphne didn’t care so long as I didn’t come back home drunk, shagged some random bloke without a condom, or did drugs. Well, she didn’t phrase it like that, but it was the general idea. My parents are rather… permissive with me. They don’t care much what I do as long as it’s not very stupid or illegal things.”

“But they don’t let you close the door of your room.”

“That’s another thing entirely. Besides, I locked the door last night and I’m not dead, so see, they’re permissive. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go put on actual clothes. I feel like I’ve been wearing those pyjamas forever,” I say as I let go of his hand and start the complicated task of leaving the sofa without any of the three little girls holding onto me going with me. 

First, I ask Mordelia to leave and she complies, sitting on the couch instead, as far as she can from Cordelia. Mordy doesn’t really like being with the twins. She thinks they are babies, and therefore, annoying. 

Things don’t go as smoothly with the twins. I move my shoulders to make Ophelia and Cordelia understand that I want them to stop clinging to me, but they don’t seem to want to. “Please girls, I have to go change my clothes.”

“Stay,” Ophelia says, tightening her grip on my arm.

Little demon.

“Hey, what do you think about me staying with you instead of Baz? I still have to tell you the end of the story, remember?” Snow intervenes.

My saviour.

“Story?” Cordelia says, confused, and then she seems to remember because she shouts excitedly “Story!”

“Yeah honey, story. Come on, let your brother go and come with me.”

**…**

Since Snow found my makeup, I decide to give him a little show. See what he thinks about it. I just hope he won’t think I look ridiculous, but I’m rather confident when it comes to my attractiveness and I don’t think some makeup could completely ruin that, so I still should look good, even if the makeup isn’t to Snow’s taste.

I don’t put much -I don’t like how I look with a lot of makeup on my face- I just work on trying to hide my dark circles a little, and overall, make myself look less dead, then I put some eyeliner, and silver glittery eyeshadow on the inner corner of my eye. I think about applying highlighter to my cheekbones but I don’t want to hear Snow referencing Twilight -of course I’ve seen it, what about it?- so I don’t. Then, I go look for clothes to wear. At first, I had planned to wear a comfortable pair of jeans and a jumper, something that wouldn’t be a pain to wear in the train, but I’m not taking the train and I want to look good for Snow, so I try to find something a bit better. He looked like he quite liked what I was wearing yesterday, so I try to find something similar. I settle for a pair of dark grey jeans and a shirt with a dark green, black, and silver pattern. I leave the two top buttons open, as usual, and after fixing my hair -which is free of hair gel, as Snow likes- I’m good to go.

**…**

He stops talking the moment he sees me, at my sisters’ great displeasure. So my look was a success. Good.

**…**

**Simon**

Holy fuck, he’s so hot. 

And he… Jesus Christ, are those _jeans_? I didn’t think he even owned a pair of jeans.

“Baz, you’re… you’re wearing jeans.”

“How observant of you, Snow. Do you like my outfit?” 

Fuck me if I don’t.

“Yeah. You… You look gorgeous. Oh my God. It’s so unfair I can’t say bad word with your sisters around,” I say as I stand up. The girls weren’t holding onto me like they were Baz, so it’s not hard leaving the couch.

I walk towards him, letting my eyes travel up and down his body. He looks so fucking glorious and… Oh fuck.

“You put makeup on.”

“I did. You seemed intrigued, so I thought I’d show you.”

Well that was a bloody brilliant idea.

He didn’t even put that much, but it looks wonderful. The black thing -I think it’s called eyeliner- gives his eyes a lovely shape, and the glitters on the corner are the same exact colour as his irises. 

“Why don’t you wear that more often? You look beautiful! It’s a pity I never saw you with makeup on before.”

“You only see me at school, Snow, so of course you never saw me with makeup on. But pray tell, what about the rest? I have a feeling you like the jeans,” he teases me, with one of his insufferable smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll like them even more when you’ll turn around and start walking back to your room.” 

I try to give him a convincing smirk, and it mustn’t be too bad because he doesn’t make fun of me. Instead, he simply does as I said, turning around and walking towards the stairs.

I was right, the jeans look even better from behind.


	37. Chapter Thirty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go back to school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> As I’m writing this, I’m working on what I’m pretty sure is the last chapter of this fanfic, unless I miraculously get a random idea out of nowhere, which seems quite unlikely, so I might post a couple chapters tonight to complete the fanfic, if I manage to finish writing that last chapter ^^

**Baz**

Before I even know it, it’s time to go. 

Snow and I spent the rest of the morning in my room, and he somehow managed to keep his hands off me for most of that time so that we could just _talk_ and not snog. As much as I like rolling around in bed with him, I also rather enjoy our conversations. He talks a surprising lot, considering how bad he is with words, when we’re just chatting like that, about school, about life. Then, we had lunch with my family and Daphne put Octavia to bed, which was our cue to leave. 

Snow went to get his stuff in my room while I snuck in the library, and then my mother’s office. There are a couple of things I want to take to Watford with me. I put them in a bag of my own, and wait for him to come down in the entrance hall with Daphne. 

“Girls!” she calls “Come say bye to Baz, he’s going back to school.”

It’s not long before we hear running, and soon enough, Mordy is holding onto me while the little ones grip the legs of my trousers and jump in place to get my attention.

“You’re leaving already?” Mordelia says, looking up at me, her chin digging in my stomach.

“I was just here for the weekend, but I’ll come back for Christmas.”

“But Christmas is in forever!”

I crouch down as best as I can with my sisters clinging to me to be on eye level with Mordelia. I put one of my hands on the back of each of the twins, and say “It’s not that far away, I promise. Besides, I’m always gone for longer than that for school. I’m sure you won’t even have time to start missing me that I’ll already be back. Give me a goodbye kiss?” I tell her, turning my head a little to show her my cheek. She pecks it, and then she moves back, not leaving the room but not being as close as she was. It allows me to stand up again, carrying my two other sisters, one in each arm. “Goodbye to you two, little troublemakers.”

“Bye bye,” Cordelia says, opening and closing her little fist before wriggling her way out of my arm.

Ophelia doesn’t leave as quickly though. She just put her head on my shoulder, holding the collar of my shirt in her hand. “Baz go?”

“Yes, princess, I’m going.”

“Mummy go too?”

“Your mummy is just driving me back to school, she’ll be back later in the afternoon.”

She takes a second to focus on my words, and probably also to try and think of what she wants to say. “Baz no come back?” she eventually, raising her head to look at me with her big, confused brown eyes.

I laugh at that, rubbing her back. “Of course I’ll come back, just not as soon as mummy. Come on now, go play, okay?” 

As I say that, I bend down to put her back on her feet, on the floor. She hugs my legs, and then she’s gone. When I look up, I see that Mordelia is still here, and that she has a sad look on her face. It makes my heart clench.

“Mordy, what is it?”

“I don’t want you to go. We barely even spent time together and you’re already going back. It’s so unfair the babies are here the whole year and you’re not. You’re boring but at least you don’t drool on me or pull my hair,” she mumbles, but there’s as much sadness in her voice as in her eyes.

“You know Mordelia, you can say you like me, it’s not going to kill you,” I tell her as I walk in her direction, scooping her up when I’m close enough. 

She doesn’t even let out an offended cry or kick me. She must really dislike that I’m going.

Quickly enough, her arms are around my neck and she’s hugging me tightly. “Do you think you could come back for another weekend? And maybe play with me a bit more if you do?”

“I’ll see. That’ll depend on how things are at school, but I’ll try my best to visit at least once before the Christmas holidays, how about that?”

“I’d like that.”

“See? There’s no reason to be sad. I won’t be gone for too long,” I say, stroking the side of her face. “And you could always call me, you know? Like you did last year. Just ask your mum for her phone, yeah?”

She nods, and finally, _finally_ gives me a smile. I don’t like seeing the kids sad. They’re always so cheerful. 

“Good.” I tighten my arms around her a bit, before I eventually let go.

This time she doesn’t stay in the hall.

**…**

Snow arrives shortly after that, his bag slung on his shoulders. He puts his shoes and jacket on, and then we’re walking out of the house to the car.

“What’s that?” he asks me, pointing at my bag.

“A bag.”

“Wow, thank you, I’d have never guessed. I meant what’s in there, you prick.”

“You’ll see later. It’s for you, but I’ll give it to you at school.

**…**

The ride is rather long, as it always is, but shorter than it should be. Daphne used a spell to make it go faster. It always amazes me when she uses magic, while if it was Fiona driving, I wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest that she’d use a spell. She almost always does. My aunt is like me in that way, she loves using her magic, even for little things that are not particularly necessary. Waste of magic, Snow would say.

“Here you go, boys,” Daphne says as she parks the car. 

She then turns around to look at us before we leave. “It was a pleasure having you home,” she tells Snow with one of her tender smiles. “You’re welcome to come back whenever you want, and we’d be glad to have you over for Christmas if you don’t have any other plans.”

She knows he doesn’t have any other plans, I told her so when we had our little chat in the kitchen, but it’s thoughtful of her to put it like that. Like she’s giving him an option among others, and not like it’s his only option not to spend Christmas alone. I’m surprised she said that, though. Surely she didn’t invite him without talking about it with Father first, and I can’t imagine my father actually agreeing to having my boyfriend home for two whole weeks. 

“Oh, uh, thank you Mrs Grimm, really. I’d love to come for Christmas,” he smiles back. 

“Great. Take care of yourselves until then, boys. And Baz, don’t forget to check your phone. I don’t think Mordy will call now, but don’t make her wait several days when she does.”

“Of course. Bye, mother.”

“Goodbye.”

She smiles to us one last time, and then Snow and I are out of the car. We stay on the parking lot until Daphne drives away, and then I turn to Snow. “I was thinking I’d go pay Niall and Dev a visit. They’ve been worried about the trial, and even if I told them it all went well, they might still appreciate seeing me. So I could go there, and you could go see Bunce or Wellbelove. Or go back to the room, I suppose.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea! I’m probably going to go check on Penny. She’ll want to make sure I’m alive after I spent the weekend at her place. You know, to see with her own two eyes that you people didn’t use my virgin blood for a sacrifice or something.”

“Hm, we really missed an occasion here,” I say, furrowing my eyesbrows as if I was seriously thinking about this. “Especially since we can’t really use your _virgin_ blood now, can we?”

“And whose fault is that? Maybe if you weren’t so hot I’d still be a virgin.”

Bastard.

He shouldn’t be allowed to compliment me when I’m teasing him, that’s just not fair, all it does is making me a bit weak in the knees.

“It’s entirely your fault,” I shoot back. “You’re the one who went all crazy because he saw a box of condoms.”

“If you wanna go there, blame your stepmum. She’s the one who gave you the condoms in the first place,” Snow says with what I think he intends to be a smirk as he starts following me towards the drawbridge. 

The words make me cringe. “Aleister Crowley, Snow, don’t talk about my stepmother when we’re talking about sex.”

“Hey there’s no one around you can call me nice things again instead of _Snow_ ,” he groans, because he’s a whiny child.

“I like calling you Snow.”

“I don’t.”

“I know, that’s why I like calling you that,” I tell him, with something that is _actually_ a smirk on my face.

“You’re such a prick. I can’t believe I even like you.”

**…**

“Thank Merlin you’re okay,” Dev says when he opens the door to his room. 

“You knew it went well. I called you,” I say.

“Doesn’t mean we didn’t worry, mate. Come on in, Niall’s inner overprotective mother has taken over when you knocked, he’s waiting for you.”

Crowley, did they really worry? I called them just so that they wouldn’t, especially Niall. Maybe I should have stayed on the phone longer. Or called them back later when I wasn’t in the car with my parents. But “later”, I was much too busy with _Simon Snow_.

I can barely sit on his bed that Niall is already on me, his hand on my shoulder, his eyes looking at me up and down as if he was looking for some sort of injury.

“What the fuck happened with the High Court? Details, Basilton, I want details don’t just serve me your ‘it went well’ bullshit. ‘It went well, honestly?’ That can mean everything and nothing at the same time,” he scolds me, speaking much too fast. 

“Hey, Niall, calm down. I’m sorry, but I just really didn’t want to talk about it once it was over. But I’m going to tell you everything now so stop being annoying and move,” I tell him, elbowing him in the side. 

He groans, but moves, sitting near the wall so that Dev can sit next to him, on the side of the bed that’s next to the empty space between both of their beds. They’re pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, but of course, they don’t mind.

“So, the trial. First I had this examination with Dr Wellbelove, and he told me I was dead which was rather rude, you don’t just tell people they’re _dead_ , but anyway. After that, the actual trial began and I was a bit of a bitch to the judges because I knew that if I acted all nice they’d consider me weak which would make them more likely to punish me. I told them some stuff, defending myself, answered some of their questions, and then they took some time to deliberate, and in the end they decided that as long as I drank animal blood I wasn’t a threat to the our world, but they made it clear that I should keep my fangs far away from other people’s necks. So yeah, that’s all there is to say about it.”

They’re both staring at me, their eyes open wide. I can understand why. The High Court has its reputation, after all, and it’s _not_ known for not giving sentences.

“But you know, it’s not even the craziest thing that happened this weekend,” I add, because I’d _much rather_ talk about Snow than about that bloody trial.

“How can it not be the craziest thing that happened? You faced the _High Court_ and fucking got yourself out of this mess unharmed and free,” Niall says, wonder in his voice.

I feel a smile tug at my lips. “If I tell you that I had sex with Snow, wouldn’t you say that’s crazier?”

**…**

**Simon**

I should have taken the fact that boys can’t come to the Cloisters into account. I’ve been freezing my arse off in front of the entrance door for ages, waiting for someone to come in or out to ask them if they can help me for at least half an hour when one of the girls _finally_ exits the building.

She doesn’t look familiar, but she doesn’t look like one of the young kids either, so she must be in her fifth or sixth year. 

Her hair is neon green, if I had seen her before, I’d have remembered her. 

“Hello, excuse me,” I say, trying to get her attention, though I already had it. It’s not often that a boy comes around here, and I’m not exactly nobody at this school.

“What is it?” the girl answers.

“Do you think you could do me a favour? I need to see Penelope Bunce, her room is room number 42, but uh as you can see I’m a boy so I can’t get inside. Could you just please go tell her that Simon is waiting for her? I’m sorry I understand if you can’t but that’d help me a lot,” I tell her with a smile. 

She seems a bit confused at first, but then she nods. “Yeah, sure I can. That won’t be free, though,” she teases me. Or at least I think she’s teasing.

“Oh well, I’ve nothing to give you except my eternal gratitude, I’m sorry.”

“That’ll do,” she says. “So your friend is on the fourth floor, room 42, that’s right?”

“Yes. And uh, she’s got purple hair, just so you know. In case it’s her roommate who opens the door, you know. You’ve got nice hair, by the way. That green is very pretty.”

“Thank you!” she says, flattered, and then she’s walking back inside the building.

**…**

**Penny**

I wait until we’re in Simon’s room to ask the question that has been burning my tongue since I saw him “So, how did the weekend go?”

“Surprisingly great!” he says with a smile. “I thought it’d be a bit awkward being at Baz’s place with his parents and all but we actually weren’t with them much, and his stepmum is nice, so it wasn’t so bad. So yeah, the Pitches didn’t murder me, but uh… kind of a lot of things happened.” he says as he puts his bag down on the floor before climbing on his bed. 

I join him there. “Things? What kind of things? Good ones?”

I hope it’s good things, but considering why he went to Basil's in the first place, I’m not so sure it is.

“Some were good, yes. But let’s start with the bad ones. Oh, and before I tell you, I’m saying my thing, and then we move on to something else. I don’t want to talk about it. I did with Baz and I don’t want to do that again, okay? You’ll have all the info, we just won’t talk feelings.”

He’s nervous. He’s speaking fast, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey, Si, relax,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “Understood, I’ll let you talk about the good things that happened instead of asking how you feel about the bad thing.”

I’m not really fond of the idea. I’d rather Simon talked to me, but if he talked to Baz, he at least didn’t keep it to himself, which is what matters most. Simon doesn’t deal well at all with keeping things inside.

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. So, you know how Baz invited me to do some research about my mum? Well, we found some stuff. First of all, her name was Lucy Salisbury. I also saw a picture of her ; she was blonder than me but her eyes were the same colour as mine. We actually look alike a lot,” he says it with a sweet smile on his face that warms my heart. I’m so glad he got to have that. To see a picture of his mum, to know her name. It’s so little compared to what he deserves to have had, but it’s already much more than he probably thought he’d ever get. “The bad things… they came after. I… We asked Baz’s stepmum if she knew anything about Lucy, because they were almost the same age, and uh… she did, but it’s not… it’s not good news. She told us that my mum was dating a boy when she was at Watford and, uh… I guess you understand that this bloke is most likely my dad and… well… he…” I rub his arm, and give him a small, encouraging smile, trying to tell him to go on without actually speaking. He gulps, and then closes his eyes and blurts out “It’s the Mage.”

I feel my mouth fall open and my eyes open wide. 

_What the fuck?_

“The Mage?” I repeat with disbelief.

“The Mage, yeah. That’s why I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s… let’s just move on.”

I really don’t want to move on. I have so many questions. But it must already be challenging enough, emotionally, for Simon, so I don’t push. 

“Yes, let’s do that. Tell me about the good things. Did Basil and you talk about this kiss you gave him before he left?”

His whole face lights up immediately. Crowley, how did I not understand how much he liked Baz before. 

“We did! I asked him to be my boyfriend actually, because I really, really, really wanted him to be my boyfriend you know, and he said yes! He fucking said yes, Penny!” 

He’s giggling as he talks, his eyes shining with glee.

It’s been so long since I saw him this happy. I’m glad I get to see him being so cheerful again. Happiness really is a good look on him.

…

**Simon**

When Baz comes back, not even ten minutes after Penny left, fed up with my ranting about Baz, he doesn’t even pretend not to want to be with me ; he immediately comes lie in my bed and cuddles up to me. I’ve noticed that Baz loves cuddles. He also loves having his hair played with, so I start doing that. He lets out a pleased sigh, one of his arms circling my waist to pull me closer.

“You still smell like me,” he mumbles against my shoulder.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know. I like smelling myself on you but it doesn’t smell like you and I don’t like that.” 

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly. I know that he’s exhausted, so I let him relax. I don’t mind the silence. Silence doesn’t feel oppressive when I can feel the weight of Baz’s body against my side. However, after a moment, he yawns, and says “There’s something I have to give you and if we keep hugging I’m just going to fall asleep, so let’s not do that.”

His voice is a little sleepy already. 

“I’m kind of liking the cuddling, you sure you don’t want to keep doing that?” I whisper, my lips in his hair, before pressing a kiss there. 

“I’m sure,” he answers as he pushes himself up, clearly reluctantly, and grabs his bag, that he left on the floor when he got on my bed.

I groan, but I don’t really mind that much. I’m a bit curious about what’s in there. I’m just a bit annoyed I won’t get to cuddle with Baz for five minutes.

“Don’t complain, I’m pretty sure you’re going to like it,” he says as he opens the zipper, reaching inside of the bag and taking a thin sheet out of it. 

My mum’s class picture.

I didn’t even think about taking it, but Baz did. He assumed I’d want to have it, and he took it for me. Because he was “pretty sure I was going to like it”.

I love him so much.

“I thought you might like to have it, to have a picture of your mother, even if it’s not a great one,” he tells me, looking a bit shy, as he hands me the photograph.

I take it, and my eyes fly to where my mother is. She looks so pretty. I wonder what she’d look like now, if she was still alive. 

“You thought well. Thank you so much,” I say, leaning to kiss his check. 

I’m sure he’d have a subtle blush on his cheeks if he blushed easily. 

“Yeah, so anyway, the picture is for you, and I’ve got something else to give you.”

He seems so nervous to be giving me things, it’s adorable. 

He reaches inside his bag again, and this time it’s a book he hands me. A book? Why would Baz give me a book? He’s the one who reads, not me.

“I know you don’t really read.” I still wonder if he’s a psychic sometimes. “But I thought I could read it to you. That way we’ll spend time together without snogging the whole time.”

“I have nothing against snogging the whole time.” I tell him as I take the book.

When I see the title, I understand why he might have wanted to give it to me now. “Pride and prejudice,” I say with a smile.

“Good guess, Lizzie,” he tells me, with amusement in his voice.

I snort and glance at him. “Lizzie? Seriously? Snow is bad enough.”

If he starts calling me that, I swear I’m calling him by his first name. Or I’m calling him Edward.

“Hey, who told me he wanted me to find my Lizzie?”

It makes me go all soft.

Crowley, I can’t believe him. I can’t be annoyed at him for calling me that now, can I?

“And you think I’m your Lizzie?”

“Well, you saw what was under the surface and it made you like me, didn’t it? You’re my Lizzie.”

Romantic fucker.


	38. Chapter Thirty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz had an idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post the next chapter in a few hours!
> 
> Make sure you’ve read the previous one

**Simon**

It was Baz’s idea.

I was looking at my mother’s picture, which is something I do maybe a bit too often, but I have lived 18 years without even knowing what she looks like so I’m making up for lost time, when Baz had an idea. “We should search the Mage’s office, see if we can find something. We might find concrete proof that he’s your father, or something about your mom,” he said. 

I wasn’t really convinced that we’d find anything, but Baz seemed determined, and I wasn’t going to lose anything by trying, so here we are, in the Mage’s office. We knew he wouldn’t be here ; Baz’s father said that the Coven had forbidden the Mage access to Watford until my questioning. They don’t want him to be able to influence me, because they’re hoping I’ll accept the truth spell and are afraid I might not if the Mage can talk me into not doing.

“Where do we start?” Baz asks.

He’s really motivated. I think it’s because he’s trying to keep his mind off my audience with the court. It’s tomorrow, and I can tell Baz is very anxious. He tries to hide it, of course, but I’m starting to be good at reading him. 

“It’s your idea. You make the plans.”

“Thank you for being so very helpful, Snow. It’s a pleasure really,” Baz sighs, but I can almost see smoke coming out of his ears from how hard he’s thinking. “We’ll have to use magic a lot,” he says after a while. “Because I assume everything is under key, so I think we should work together. We can’t risk your magic messing anything up, so we’ll need my spellwork. We might need your magic still, but for your magic print not your spells.”

“My magic print?” I ask, frowning.

**…**

**Baz**

Merlin, this idiot.

“Snow, do you ever listen in class? We learnt that in second or third year.”

“Well, explain it instead of being an arsehole,” he mumbles.

Let’s bring back my teacher’s voice. Snow will think I’m looking down on him otherwise. “Every mage has a magic print. It’s unique, but there can be similarities. It’s kind of like DNA, in a way. You have your own, and it’s completely different from anyone else’s, but it’s similar to your parents’. Therefore, a very common way to hide things is to hide them using your magic print as the key, or the password, if you will, since only your parents and children have a magic print similar enough for it to reveal what you’ve hidden.”

“So if the Mage hid anything like that, and he’s really my father, I’ll be able to find it, whatever it is?” Snow asks.

“Yes, exactly.”

His eyes go wide. “Magic is wicked,” he says, his voice filled with wonder. 

He’s so adorable.

I love magic, but I’ve been born with him, and I was raised with it. Magic was always part of my life, it doesn’t amaze me the way it does Snow. I think it’s heartwarming, how he finds things that don’t faze me anymore marvelous. 

“It kind of is, yes. Now let's get to work. I’d say we should start with the cupboard over here,” I say, pointing at a piece of furniture against the wall on the left. 

“Why this one? Shouldn’t we start with his desk?”

“I doubt the Mage is stupid enough hide something in the first place anyone would think of searching. The man has a lot of flaws, but he’s smart. Hiding something in plain sight can be quite efficient, but it’s also rather risky. I’d say he might have taken some risks, but not this one. So we’re starting with that thing that looks completely uninteresting and not worth looking in.”

“What risks do you think he might have taken?” Snow asks as we head to the cupboard.

“Hiding something with his magic print despite having a son who can easily access his office? We’re not sure about either of those things yet, I know, but to me they both seem quite likely.”

They do and I hate it. I don’t want Snow to be the Mage’s son. I don’t want anything to have to do with that bastard, and I don’t want him to suffer because that man is his biological father. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it since last Saturday, and it really seems like the only option. I checked the year on Lucy’s class picture. 1995. Only two years before Snow was born. There’s no way she could have broken up with the Mage and got pregnant with another man’s child. I think Snow has understood this too, but I’m not sure he has accepted it. 

We sit on the floor in front of the cupboard, and I can see a tense line baring Snow’s forehead. I take his hand in mine. “It’ll be okay, love.”

“I don’t think it will if we find anything, but sure,” he says with a nervous laugh, squeezing my hand. “Go on, Basil, open the bloody drawers.”

Just to be sure, I pull on one of them, but as expected, it doesn’t open. So I cast a spell on it, and the four drawers this piece of furniture has open simultaneously. “ **Fine-tooth comb-- Lucy Salisbury** ”

Nothing. It’s not surprising to me, but it makes Snow’s shoulder hunch in disappointment. “Hey, I told you it might be concealed. A fine-tooth comb search won’t do anything if whatever thing your mum is mentioned in is hidden. I just thought I’d try that before getting your magic to intervene, but now is your time to shine Snow. Not literally, please don’t start glowing. I can’t deal with your magic escaping right now,” I say, exaggerating my pleading voice, which makes him laugh.

“I’ll try. What do I have to do?”

“Simply cast a revealing spell. Start with **Show yourself** , it’s the most powerful one. If it doesn’t work, try  **Come out, come out, wherever you are** . It’s not a revealing spell per say but it helps find things, so it could work.

Snow nods, and reach for his wand. He has this sort of armband that keeps it strapped to his arm, so that he doesn’t have to carry it around. I think the Mage got him that for practicity, because Snow is a bit of a mess, and very forgetful, so he might have lost his wand if not for that thing. 

As for me, I just think it’s pretty cool when he takes his wand out of his sleeve like that. I’m sure it makes him feel like one of those Normal “magicians.”

He clears his throat, and I see that he’s really focusing to cast the spell correctly. His eyes are fixed on the cupboard, and his voice is clear and his words pronounced perfectly when he casts a  **Show yourself** , as instructed. For a few seconds, nothing happens, and I see Snow already getting desperate, but then, I see something glow. I don’t think Snow saw it, it’s well hidden under a pile of other documents, but I have a better vision than him. 

I reach for the paper that reacted to Snow’s spell. It’s still glowing faintly when I wave it in front of Snow. “Here, we found something.”

“It may not have anything to do about me or my mum.”

“Don’t be so defeatist. That’s my job,” I say before I glance down at the paper and…

“Snow. Snow it’s actually about your mum, look. It’s a marriage certificate.”

He snatches the paper from my hand. “So they were married? Fuck.”

My thoughts, exactly.

“David Evans…” I hear him say, rolling the words on his tongue as if they were foreign and particularly hard to say. As if he was trying to tame them. “David Evans and Lucy Salisbury.”

His parents.

“Snow?”

“Well, not Snow I guess,” he says with a bitter laugh. “It must be Evans, right? Simon Evans. That would have been my name, I suppose if… whatever happened hadn’t happened.”

“Snow is better,” I say as my thumb starts rubbing circles on his skin. “And not just because it’s ridiculous.” He snorts at that. I hope he would. I hate nothing more than seeing Snow being sad. “But because it’s your name. Your actual name. Who cares what your name would have been. Your name is Simon Snow, that’s who you are. That’s what matters. Fuck the Mage. He doesn’t deserve to have you bearing his name anyway.”

“You know, Baz, I’m aware that you don’t like him, you don’t have to show it every five seconds,” Snow laughs softly, resting his shoulder against mine a bit more.

“Saying that I don’t like him is a bloody fucking understatement. The bastard fills me with rage and disdain whenever I think about it. Which is why I need you to move your arse to go look for stuff in another place. I want to see if I’ll find other reasons to be mad at the thought of him.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic. What do you want to search next?”

“Those cupboards seem promising, let’s just check the one right here,” I tell him, pointing at a cupboard just a few steps away from where we are.

I’m 68% sure Snow is just going to crawl there like the animal he is.

Unsurprisingly, he does.

He’s a disgrace. An absolute barbarian. An excuse for a man.

I love him so fucking much. 

Since one of us has to be a bloody decent human being, I stand up, and walk to go sit next to Snow. He looks at me with judgment in his eyes, as if he considers I should have just came here on all fours like he did. I glare at him, and then focus on opening the drawers.

We repeat the same operation as on the previous piece of furniture, but this time nothing happens. Before Snow can get discouraged, I make us move in front of another piece of furniture, on the other side of the room, and try again.

It’s only after three unsuccessful searches that we find something, but not where I expected it too.

I asked Snow to cast a Show Yourself on a little table that has a drawer, but instead of making something inside of it glow, it made the  _ floor  _ glow. 

A secret trap? 

If it’d been there when my mum was Headmistress, I would have known it. I spent hours on end in this office, exploring its ever nooks. 

Snow and I glance at each other with shared apprehension. He nods hesitantly, and I cast a spell on the part of the floor that’s still glowing a little bit. A wooden trap, probably dug in the stone, opens and reveals a bunch of simple, black notebooks. But I know that they’re not just “simple notebooks”. I know that they must contain the Mage’s secrets. You don’t put so much effort into hiding something if it’s something you don’t want hidden that much. 

I wonder why he didn’t put the marriage certificate here too, why he put it so far from the rest of his stuff. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s because the marriage certificate has less importance for him as whatever this is. No one said he couldn’t have a spouse after all, it wouldn’t cause him harm if someone found he had married a girl named Lucy Salisbury.

“Do you want me to check them for you?” I ask Snow, my voice soft.

“Yes, please.”

So I reach for the first notebook I can grab. Snow sucks in a breath as I open it, but then… 

Nothing. The pages are completely blank.

“What the fuck,” he says.

“Wait, it must be another concealment spell. Try taking it in your hands, maybe it’ll react to your magic print.”

My mother had a notebook like that, where she wrote about her work. 

I hand the notebook to Snow, and the moment he takes it, black ink starts appearing. On the first page, there’s just one thing “March 10th 2012 --” I suppose another date is to be added after the dash.

“Take another one,” I tell Snow. His hands are trembling a bit. I feel back for ordering him around, but maybe if he’s focusing on something, it’ll make his panic decrease a little. “Let’s see if they’re all dated.

Snow grabs one, and opens it. And another. And another. And another.

It turns out that they’re all dated, and in a way that allows us to create a timeline, from oldest to most recent. The most recent one is obviously the one we first opened, with only one date, and the oldest one dates back from 1992. If I’m counting right, the Mage and Lucy were in 5th year at that time. Barely fifteen. 

Whatever that bastard is doing with those notebooks, he’s been doing it for a while, and he’s been pretty consistent about it. There are 8 of them, all full except for the last one. 

Once all of the notebooks are laid out in front of us in proper order, I don’t let Snow time to think or get upset. I immediately start research. “I think we should start with the one from 1995 to 1997 since it starts after their graduation and ends a bit after your birth. If he wrote anything about Lucy, or baby you, it should be in it.”

“Oh… yeah, that’s a good idea,” Snow answers, but he sounds a bit lost, like he isn’t really here with me. 

“Do you want to hold my hand?” I ask, because I know that touch grounds him. 

In lieu of an answer, he grabs my hand and holds it tightly. “Go on, start reading please.” he says, his voice low.

So I do. My eyes move across the pages, as quickly as they can, but still takes a while to get through the entire notebook. Snow stares at the floor the whole time, and I hear him trying to breathe like I make him when he needs to calm down. 

What I read truly horrifies me. 

The Mage is a monster. I’m starting to wonder if he’s not a psychopath -seriously, a literal psychopath, in the medical sense of the term.

I knew he was not a good person, and I have a good series of insults and negative terms to use against him, but this is so much worse than everything I ever imagined. I dog eared some of the pages, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell that to Snow. I’d rather make him read it.

Maybe it’s cowardly, but I don’t want to be the bringer of such terrible news.

“Snow, I… What I just read, it’s very… hard to read. It was for me, so I can only imagine it will be for you. I’d prefer if it you read it yourself, so that I don’t put any bias in my words and you know exactly what he wrote, but really… it’s… the things he talks about and the way he talks about them… you have to be prepared.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be prepared, but bring it on. Just… can you hold me? You know, like you did when we did the greek homework the other night.”

“Sure,” I tell him as I already start to move to put us in this position. I sit right behind Snow, his back leaning against my chest once I’m close enough, his head on my shoulder. My legs are spread around his, and once I give him the notebook, I put my hands on his wrist. Our bodies are almost completely in contact, and I know that he relishes the coldness of my body as much as I do the warmth of his. That it’s just as comforting for him as it is for me.

“See, I’ve marked some pages. It’s those with the most important stuff, in my opinion. Just read those ones,” I tell him before kissing his curls.

And then I brace myself for the worst.

**…**

**Simon**

_ Lucy and I got married. I didn’t think she’d agree so easily. It’s almost too easy with this girl. She really thinks I love her. It’s pathetic, but at least, it comes in handy. _

**…**

_ Mitali is starting to be a problem. I should cut ties with her. Lucy might not be happy about it, but she’ll yield eventually. She always does. _

**…**

_ Her parents bought that story about America. Is everyone in her family as naive as her? _

**...**

_ She wants a baby. Does she think we need to burden ourselves with a child? It’s already hard enough on our own.  _

**…**

_ I finally figured the prophecy out, after years of research. And I finally know what I need for it to realize itself. A Chosen One. But I can’t wait for one. I’m sure I can’t count on Lucy to give me one. _

**…**

_ A few nice words and kisses is all it took for her to let me get her pregnant. Her baby fever was profitable, in the end. _

_ Sometimes I wish I had chosen someone who would have made things more challenging for me, but Lucy is still the perfect choice. Obedient. Too foolishly in love to do anything against me or question me. A true gem. _

**…**

_ Her pregnancy isn’t going well. I hope that she won’t lose the child. I’d rather not start the process again, it would all be such a waste of time. She is sickly, and demanding more attention than usual. I play along. It seems to make her happy. It’s a good thing ; the happier she is, the less she bothers me with her ridiculous feelings. _

**…**

_ She’s becoming weaker every day. I hope her pregnancy will end soon, or her health might be seriously affected or the child could be, and I can’t have any of that. Her mother is going to worry about her if she doesn’t receive her monthly letter and I can’t be bothered with the old hag. And I absolutely can’t lose the both of them. It’d take so much time to find another woman as willing as Lucy.  _

**…**

_ Lucy gave birth to the child today. Simon, she named it. She seems particularly excited to have him. She’s been cooing at it forever. It’s irritating. The baby doesn’t do anything except crying and sleeping, I don’t see what she finds so interesting in it. I never understood people’s passion for babies. They’re frankly useless. But at least this one might prove itself useful, someday. _

**…**

_ Lucy coughed blood today. This is not a good sign. I tried casting healing spells on her, but nothing works. She’s even sicker than she was during her pregnancy. It’s a frustrating situation. I don’t know what to do. I need her to look after the child. I’m too busy to take care of it. _

**…**

_ Lucy died. It was to be expected, but I thought it might not happen, that she might heal. I buried her in the garden of the cottage. I wrote a letter to her mother with her handwriting telling her that I -Lucy- needed some time to myself and that I wouldn’t contact her anytime soon. It should be enough to make Lucy Salisbury disappear. She won’t be too missed, she wasn’t a particularly noticeable or interesting girl. _

_ Now the problem is the child. It would trouble too many of my plans to take care of it. I’m too busy for that, and it won’t be years before it finally starts being useful. For now, it’s absolutely no use to me.  _

**…**

_ A little town in Lancashire. That’s the most remote, and further from the cottage, place I could find to leave the child. I’m sure no mage will find it here, and there’s an orphanage here, so it’ll be taken care of. I’ll just have to keep track of it. If it starts doing magic, I’ll have to come and get it back.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are very appreciated 🥺  
> (transcription : please, I’m in need of validation)


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find out something else in the Mage’s notebooks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter!!!
> 
> Make sure you’ve read the previous ones
> 
> This isn’t proofread in any way, sorry, I was too excited to post it

**Baz**

The more pages he reads, the more Snow’s hands tremble, though I’m not sure if it's due to sadness or anger. Maybe both. 

Snow lets go of the notebook, which falls open on the floor in front of him. “He didn’t care about her. He… he just used her. He used her to have _me_. And he didn’t care about me either. He called me an “it”, Baz. I was not a bloody person to him. Just a part of his plan.”

His voice sounds the way his eyes look when his magic shields him. It sends a shiver down my spine. 

“I’m sorry Simon. I wish it was something else we had found. What do you want to do? Do you want to talk about it? Should I look through the other notebooks? Do you want to go back to the room?”

I’m not really sure which option would make the most sense. I have no idea how to handle this situation at all. All I hope is that Snow won’t shut me out. 

“I… Yeah I want to go back,” he says, nodding slowly. He looks and sounds so numb. Merlin and fucking Morgana, hasn’t this boy gone through enough? “But can we take the notebooks? I’d like to know what’s in them.”

“Sure, let’s do that,” I say softly as I stand up.

I give him my hand to help him on his feet, and once he’s up, he crushes me against his chest, his arms around my waist and his face buried in the crook of my neck.

I hate this so much.

“It hurts, Baz.”

“I know, love. I’m so, so sorry. I won’t tell you that it doesn’t matter because it does, of course it does, but… there are people who love you, okay? I love you. Your mum loves you. Your friends love you. Don’t focus on him. You don’t need him to love you. You have us, Simon. And I can’t talk for Bunce and Wellbelove, but you’ll always, always, _always_ have me.”

His grip on the back of my shirt tightens, and I hear him sniff. He’s probably going to ruin that shirt. See if I care.

He’s trembling so much it’s a miracle he’s holding himself up. I’m not sure he _would_ be holding himself up if he wasn’t clinging to me like he is.

I let him cry as much as he needs, stroking his hair and repeating the same comforting words over and over again as cold tears fall on my shoulder and neck. Eventually, the tears stop, and he holds me more loosely. 

“Thank you. For putting up with me,” he says as he moves back. 

Once his arms aren’t around me, they put themselves around his own body. He looks so fragile, so vulnerable. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. Putting up with you, it’s listening to you saying incredibly stupid things very seriously and trying to get me to kiss you when I’m trying to work. This is not putting up with you. That’s being there for you.”

“You like it when I try to kiss you when you work,” he says with a weak smile.

“It’s still annoying. As surprising as it may sound to you, I’m at this school to get an education, not snog you.”

Distraction. Still the best solution to really calm Snow down. He seems grateful for it. 

“You’re so full of shit. I’m sure you already know the entire syllabus. You fucking corrected a teacher on what he was saying not even two days ago, you don’t need that school for your education. And you don’t _need_ to give back homework to graduate so long as you come to the exams, so you _could_ snog me instead of doing homework.”

I simply roll my eyes at him as I bend down to pick the notebooks up. “You’re a nuisance,” I tell him as I give him half of the notebooks. “Here, hold that.”

“You could have carried them all.”

“I could have doesn’t mean I want to. Let’s go.”

**…**

We settle on my bed. Snow likes my bed, for some reason. Probably because it’s closer to the snacks. I’ve taken a few things from home, that I’ve duplicated to have a decent stash, that should last long enough even with Snow constantly stealing my food. He complained about the duplicated food, he says that food that was created by magic doesn’t taste as good, but then he shoved the sweets I gave him in his mouth so I suppose he didn’t mind too much. 

“Which one do you want to start with?” I ask him, waving at the pile of notebooks in between us.

“Let’s read in chronological order, I suppose. Can you do like you did in his office? You read and then you show me the important parts?”

“Yes, sure. But it’ll take a while, there’s a lot of reading to be done. We probably won’t sleep much tonight.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.”

We’re doing this, then. 

I’m not particularly tired, so the reading won’t be a problem. What might actually be a problem is Snow and his tendency to distract me when he gets bored. 

“Do you mind if we lie down?” I’ve been sitting down all day, my back won’t forgive me if I sit for more hours. “Also, do you want my laptop? To keep yourself busy while I read?”

“I don’t mind,” he answers, already moving to lie down. He pushes the notebooks on my side of the bed and settle on his back against the wall. “And can I have your phone instead? It takes up less space, you know, and I’d rather have you than the laptop on me.”

“You’re an animal.”

I had expected him to want me to lie close to him, though. It was really not that hard to get. I take my phone out of my pocket -since Snow knows for the phone now, when we’re not in class I keep it on me- and give it to him before I change positions too, lying on my stomach, half on top of Snow. My legs are tangled with his, and he’s got his left arm stretched against the headboard so that it’s not in the way of me cuddling up to him. There’s no way it’ll be a comfortable position for him to stay in for hours. 

But for the moment, it’s still fine, so I open the second notebook, and prop it against his arm. I was expecting a comment, but he says nothing. So I start reading.

**…**

There’s nothing particularly relevant for Snow in the second notebook. It’s mostly politics and some of the Mage’s theories. It’s interesting for me, because those are things I enjoy reading and hearing about, but the Mage doesn’t mention baby Snow or Lucy once. 

He wrote a lot about my mother’s policies, and mostly about how he disagrees with them. The worst part of all of this, I think, is that I see his point on some things. I don’t agree with the Mage as a politician, I never will, but he has a good reasoning and just from reading his own personal notes I’m starting to understand better why so many people let themselves convince that he was a man to follow. 

**…**

It’s in the third notebook that it all goes down. I knew it would, it’s written on the first page that it contains the Mage’s writing from 2002 to 2004. 

I was expecting to see him gloat for pages on end about having taken the seat of Headmaster of Watford from the Pitches. I knew I’d read about my mother’s death. I was ready for that.

But I was not ready for what I actually read.

**…**

_Nicodemus Petty refused, because his sister works at the school. It’s laughable, really. Do people know that all this sentimentalism will lead them nowhere?_

_He should have taken the opportunity he was given. I could have offered him and the rest of those pathetic vampires he surrounds himself with security, had he helped me. But he refused, so I had to find another clan. It wasn’t so hard. Vampires love to hide in plain sight. Those one accepted. All I had to do was promise them a good amount of money and not tell them not to sink their fangs in someone’s flesh, and they agreed to do the job._

_Vile, simple creatures._

_I hope Natasha Pitch will have the presence of mind to burn them down. It’d save me from having to do it myself._

_Whatever she does, I know she won’t be able to do it before the vampires are in the school. I made sure of it. That’s the entire aim of this plan, to get vampires inside of Watford. Everyone will see that Natasha Pitch can’t be trusted to protect the school, protect the children of this world, and they’ll force her to resign. That’ll open doors that are currently closed for anyone whose last name isn’t Pitch. People may finally realize that being born in a certain line, to have a certain blood, shouldn’t guarantee you such important positions as those the Pitches have held for centuries._

**…**

_The vampire attack was deadlier than I expected it to be. It doesn’t matter. It’s sure that the Coven will never put Natasha Pitch back at its Head, or that of the school. There are rumours that her son was bitten. It’s simply collateral damage, but I’ll have to keep my eyes on the child. A vampire with mage abilities is a risky thing. It might be necessary to get rid of it if it becomes a problem in the future._

_Anyhow, Natasha Pitch isn’t in charge of anything anymore. Now is my time to show I can be more capable than she or the rest of her line ever was._

**…**

**Simon**

Baz hasn’t turned a page in a couple of minutes. That’s very strange, he reads super fast. Putting his phone down on my chest, I turn my head at him.

I can immediately tell that there’s something wrong.

He’s gritting his teeth, and his eyes are staring at the pages with such intensity I’m pretty sure it could burn them.

“Baz? What is it? Did you read something interesting?”

I feel his body tense against mine. Crowley, what did he read? What could the Mage possibly have done to trouble Baz in this way?

“I… It’s not about you or your mum, don’t worry.”

“It’s not because it’s not about me that I don’t care. Clearly, whatever you read affected you. So what is it? What did he say or do? You can tell me, Baz.”

He closes his eyes for a second, and then sits back up, keeping his finger in the book not to lose his page when he closes it. I sit too, it seems like the right thing to do, and looks at Baz, waiting for him to talk to me. 

When he eventually does, I wish he hadn’t. “It’s about my mother. Well, not her, exactly, but the vampire attack.” The vampire attack? I can understand that the Mage would talk about Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s death in his notebooks, it’s _because_ she died that he became Headmaster, but the vampire attack? “He… Simon, what do you know about it. The attack, I mean?”

I can tell he’s stalling. I simply don’t know why, so I play along. If he’s taking his time, it’s because he deems it necessary, and I trust Baz’s judgment.

“Well I know that a bunch of vampires attacked the school, the nursery more specifically, and that your mum died protecting it and you from them.”

“And do you know why the vampires came to Watford in the first place?”

“Because the Humdrum sent them.”

“But now that you think about it, don’t you think it’s strange? When has the Humdrum ever sent creatures somewhere without it being a distraction so that he could steal magic from another place. Only, no magic was stolen that day. No magic was stolen until years after that day. Doesn’t it seem suspicious? The Humdrum hasn’t exactly waited years to do something ever since he first stole magic, he attacks much more often than that.”

Now that Baz says it… It’s true. It’s not like the Humdrum at all to do that. I think I’m starting to understand, but I fucking hope I’m wrong.

“Baz, get to the point please. What did the Mage write?”

“He was the one who sent the vampires.”

Of course he is. Of course he fucking is. He seems to be responsible for every fucking thing that goes wrong.

I start to feel anger rise inside me, so much quickly, and so much more intensely than when I read how and why he abandoned me. Because it’s not about me, this time, it’s about _Baz_. It’s _Baz’s_ life the Mage ruined. And I just can’t fucking accept that.

“I can show you the pages,” Baz continues, because of my lack of reaction, I suppose. “It’s right there in black and white you can see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“No, fuck, Baz, of course I believe you. It’s not that. It’s… fuck, I’m so angry,” I say, tugging at my curls.

I’ll punch something if I don’t do something with my hands.

I can’t fucking believe the Mage did that. He sent fucking _vampires_ to the school. Why the fuck would he do that?

I think I know why.

I’m a bit thick but that seems easy enough to figure out. Vampires in Watford, even if it didn’t kill her, it obviously meant the end of Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s career as Headmistress.

“Angry?” Baz repeats, sounding puzzled. 

“Your mum bloody died because of him! You were turned into a fucking vampire because of him! Of course I’m angry, Baz, it’s so unfair!”

**…**

**Baz**

Merlin, this boy.

He found out that the Mage _manipulated his mother into having his child, him, that he then abandoned when Lucy died_ but that’s the last straw? Finding out that the Mage also caused my mother’s death and my Turning? That’s what gets him all riled up? 

“Snow… Simon, please don’t get angry. I don’t feel like dealing with your magic right now. Remember, deep breaths. You can hold my hands if you want.”

“You…” he starts, almost shouting, but then he stops and closes his eyes to take deep breaths as I told him. I rub my thumb on his knee as he does, until he opens his eyes again. “You shouldn’t be the one taking care of me right now, Baz. You… You just found out… _that_. I should be here for you not the contrary, I… I’m sorry I just… It makes me so fucking mad that he… that he took the life you could have had away from you,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper.

“I know, love. I felt the same way about you, when I read what he did to Lucy, and to you. But as for the rest… Well, my mum being dead is not exactly news, you know? But it’s… it was hard to read and I’m a little shocked, I… I had always blamed the vampires because they’re the ones she fought and it’s because of them she died, because there was no point in blaming the Humdrum, we all know the Humdrum is evil, because it helped me cope to have someone to blame, and now I’m realizing that that was… not exactly right. I mean it’s not wrong to blame the vampires, but the Mage is to blame too, and I… I hate that, not because I don’t want another reason to hate him, I’m more than fine with that, but thinking that my mother’s death happened under the Humdrum’s order was… simpler than thinking that it’s under the Mage’s order. The Humdrum is this… this supervillain that we all know is evil and that even you, Simon Snow, haven’t beaten yet. He’s a force to be reckoned with. The Mage… he’s a man. Just that. And my mother died because of him. Because of the petty wish of one man to get her fired.”

Everything is so confused in my head right now, I’m not sure anything I just said makes sense, which is not a feeling I enjoy at all. A feeling I _do_ enjoy is the warmth of Simon’s body when he pulls me into a hug, climbing on me lap to be closer. He holds me against his chest, so tenderly, so lovingly, trying to give me with acts a comfort he can’t give me with words.

It doesn’t feel like the hug he gave me in the Mage’s office, a desperate embrace, him clinging to me like he would fall apart if my body wasn’t here to keep him together. It feels soft, not urgent. It feels like a “I’m here”. It feels like a “You’re safe”. It feels like a “I’m sorry”. It feels like an “I love you.”

“I’ll make him pay, Baz,” Snow whispers eventually, with more determination than I ever heard in his voice. “For what he did to our mums, to us. I promise, I’ll make him pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you remember what the Mage wrote in his notebook at the beginning of the story, you might have wanted them to read that, but after reading this stuff about Lucy and Natasha they chose to just stop with the notebooks. Simon knew his name would make a comeback in the Mage’s notebooks eventually if they continued and it made him sick to think of the horrible things he could have written so he told Baz he didn’t want to keep reading them


	40. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is the last chapter  
> It feels so weird posting it  
> As I was writing that story, I was so excited to get to the last chapter but now that I’m there I’m feeling a little sad. I started writing this a month ago, on October 11th, and it’s already over. I don’t really want it to be over, but I know it has to be  
> It was such a cool experience, posting this, seeing people read my thing and LIKE it... it was really incredible, and reading the comments always made my day, I’ll miss that.  
> I hadn’t written a long fanfiction in years (6 years, damn) when I started this one, I was so scared it’d be terrible and people would hate it and I’m so glad that’s not how it went  
> I hope the end won’t disappoint you

**Penny**

At 8 in the morning, I’m in front of the door of Simon’s room. He told me someone from the Coven would come for him at 9 for his questioning, and I want to be with him and make sure he’s okay before has to go. The problem is, I knocked twice and no one has answered. Is he still sleeping? Crowley, I hope not. He _can’t_ still be sleeping, not when he has to leave in one hour.

But since no one is opening the door, even after my third try, I have to resort to using magic. I spell the door open, and my eyes fall on a room that’s not dark, the curtains haven’t be drawn, but whose occupants are still in bed.

In the _same_ bed, Simon practically sleeping on top of Basil, both of them still in their clothes, with notebooks scattered around them. Crowley, what were they doing before they fell asleep?

I try not to let the sight of Simon and Baz cuddling faze me, I know that they’re in a relationship, and I know, at my greatest despair that they’re close, _physically_ -Simon told me. He was excited about it. I wanted to pour bleach in my ears not to hear that- but it’s still strange to see them like that, when they only used to be close when they fought. Anyhow, I don’t have time to focus on that. I have to wake Simon -or the both of them, I suppose- up. 

I walk towards the bed -Baz’s bed, Simon slept in _Baz Pitch’s_ bed- and I barely touch his shoulder that he wakes up in a jerk, making Baz open his eyes too. They both start when they see me.

“Jesus Christ, Penelope, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Simon says as sits on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

“What in the name of magic are you doing here?” Baz asks, staring at me with wide eyes.

“In case you two forgot, Simon has to be ready to leave for his meeting with the court at 9. It’s 8.”

“Oh fuck.” Simon swears. He turns to Baz “Didn’t we set an alarm? Why didn’t we set an alarm, Baz!”

“Snow. Don’t panic, everything’s okay. Bunce came and woke you up. Your only imperative is to put clothes on, that won’t take much time. So you won’t be late. It’s fine, you’re fine,” Basil says calmly, his voice still heavy with sleep. I think he’s rubbing his hand on the small of Simon’s back, but I can’t see well enough to be sure.

Either way, he’s doing a great job making Simon relax. Who would have thought.

“Yeah, you’re right. I… I’m gonna go change, I’m coming back. Don’t kill each other,” he says as he gets out of bed, looking for his clothes. They’re folded on his desk, so I suppose he prepared them last night. Or rather, Baz prepared them last night, because I can’t imagine Simon choosing his clothes in advance and _folding_ them in a million years. He’s the least organized person I know.

Once he disappears inside the bathroom, I sit on the bed with Basil, looking down at him. “So, Simon and you, huh?”

“You know Snow and I are dating. He told you,” he answers, deadpan, as he puts himself in a more proper position, sitting with his back straight against the wall. 

“Yes, I know, but I haven’t _seen_ anything that shows it before. Now I have. I didn’t think you two would sleep in the same bed, they’re so ridiculously small.”

“Snow told me you complained about your roommate and her girlfriend all the time. You should know two people can fit in those tiny beds so long as they don’t both want their own space,” he says with a smirk, that make me regret even opening my mouth.

To avoid getting any detail I really don’t want about my best friend’s sex life, I grab one of the notebooks that are on the bed. “What’s that? They’re too small to be for school.”

“None of your business.” Baz snatches the notebook from my hands a bit aggressively as he says that, before quickly taking the other ones and keeping them next to him. “You’ll ask Snow, and if he wants to tell you he will.”

“You should just tell me, you know. Simon tells me everything.”

“None. Of. Your. Business. The content of those is not mine to share, that’s all.”

Crowley, what are these two hiding? What could possibly be in those notebooks that would make Basil so defensive?

I suppose I won’t have to wonder for too long, because shortly after, Simon is coming out of the bathroom, dressed in clothes I know for sure aren’t his ; beige trousers, a white shirt, and a navy blue jumper that all seem very high quality. Baz must have lent them to him so that he’d have something appropriate to wear for his audience. I suppose that’s much better than his school uniform.

“Is this okay?” Simon asks a bit nervously, his eyes only on Baz, opening his arms as if to show off his outfit.

“It’s great, Snow. You don’t look like a street urchin. That’s a lot of progress from your usual appearance.”

“Fuck right off, Basilton. Besides, you really shouldn’t insult my looks, because if I look like a street urchin, that means you _fell_ for a street urchin, which is a lot more pathetic on your part than on mine.”

So I suppose that it’s not because they’re in a relationship now that they’ve stopped fighting. They just fight with less fists and less hurtful words.

It’s really a strange experience, seeing how they act around one another knowing that they are a couple now. They do act like a couple, just now, Simon is sitting next to Baz, his pinky over Baz’s, which is probably the closest he wants to get to holding hands with me in the room with them. But the way they talk when they’re teasing each other… you’d think they still dislike each other, if not for the… softness, they put behind their words. As if their insults meant “you’re beautiful” or “I really like you”.

“Bunce has something to ask you,” Baz tells Simon, pointing his chin at me.

He frowns “Really? What is it?”

“What are those?” I ask, showing him the notebook that Basil is still keeping close to him. 

He glances at Baz, and they have some sort of silent discussion that includes frowning on both of their parts and Baz rolling his eyes, but eventually, Simon turns back to me and says with a nervous smile “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, you’ve got…” I check my watch. “40 minutes to tell me. I’m all ears.

**…**

**Simon**

Penny is still a bit stunned by everything I just told her when she practically pushes me out of my room, barely not letting me kiss Baz goodbye, because it’s almost 9 and I have to go to the parking lot.

As she walks me there, I hear her mutter, more at herself than at me “The Mage… I can’t believe… I knew had radical tendencies… but his own wife… that poor girl… and Headmistress Grimm-Pitch… It’s crazy…”

It makes me a bit uncomfortable, honestly. I wish she’d stop talking about it. I don’t want to think about it anymore, not until I’ve spilled everything I have to say about Emmeline Hale to the judges of the Coven. I don’t care if that makes me a snitch, the Mage fucking deserves to be snitched on, doesn’t he? He fucking killed someone. And caused the death of other people. He should be in bloody jail.

Do mages even have jails? I think Baz mentioned jail, once, before his trial, but I’m not sure.

Once we get to the parking lot, she stops talking to herself and starts looking at me. “You’re going to accept the truth spell, right? I told you, it’s dangerous, but if you’re sure that you’ve done nothing wrong, it’s the best option for you.”

“Yes, Penny, I’m going to accept the truth spell. And yes, I know it’s the best option. You’ve told me a million times, and so has Baz. You two have to stop being so stressed like that for me. Crowley, is it what it’s like having parents?” I joke, to try and make her relax a bit.

I’m not too anxious, but Penny’s own nervousness is going to rub off on me.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s kind of what it’s like having parents, yeah,” she says.

“Holy shit, that sucks.”

“You’re an idiot.”

I give her a smile, and right at this moment, we hear a car coming.

Ok.

So here it is.

I’m going.

I’m leaving for London, to be questioned by Coven members about a murder.

_That’s perfectly chill._

Here it is, she’s done it, she’s made me anxious. Screw you, Penny.

“Penny, uh, since Baz’s dad is one of the people who will question me, we arranged for him to lend me his phone once I can leave so that I can call Baz, and Baz will pick me up in London. I’m sure if you ask nicely, he’ll let you come with him. You know, just in case you, uh, you don’t want to wait for me to come back. That’d actually be quite convenient for me ‘cause I don’t really want to repeat the same thing over and over again, you know about what happened, so uh, yeah, that’s it.”

“I’ll see. Don’t get upset over that, really. Focus on what’s important, what you’re going to tell the judges. That’s what matter. Good luck, Simon,” she tells me, kissing my cheek.

She doesn’t do that often at all, and I’m very fucking glad she did it now.

I give her a shaky smile, and them I’m walking towards the car waiting for me before the coven envoy can get irritated.

The Coven envoy who is…

Malcolm Grimm.

Fuck my life.

**…**

**Baz**

“I’ve brought vodka!” is the first thing Dev says as he walks into my room, proudly waving his bottle as Niall looks truly desperate.

“Hello to you too, dear cousin. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be here for emotional support, not to get drunk,” I tell him, giving one my signature looks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep but I’m shit at emotions so I thought I’d get you drunk so that you’re too out of it to worry about Snow. See, I’m a smart bloke,” he answers, tapping his index finger against his head.

He’s utterly ridiculous, that’s what he is.

He and Niall go sit on my bed, and I follow suit.

“Sure. But I unfortunately don’t intend on getting drunk, I’m driving up to London to pick Snow up after he’s done with the Coven.”

“Oh, date night in the capital? That’s fancy, Basil,” Niall says with a teasing smile.

Surprisingly, he takes the bottle from Dev’s hands and opens it, swallowing some vodka. He makes a face. “That shit’s disgusting.”

“Give it back, you fool,” Dev says as he grabs his bottle. He holds it close to his face, stroking it like it’s a precious thing. “Be nice to the vodka, you’ll hurt its feelings.

They’re children. Why do I even put up with them. 

“I’m not sure we’ll have much of a date,” I answer Niall’s previous comment. “Snow told me Bunce might ask me to take her along with me so that she can be with him after his questioning too.”

It makes the both of them snort. Bastards.

“That’s one hell of a cockblock, mate,” Dev says.

“Fuck, I know. But I can’t really tell her no if she asks, you know? She’s her friend.”

Dev swallows some alcohol before he says, waving his bottle in my general direction. “We’re your friends and when you had your trial you left us to worry the whole weekend because you were too busy trying to get in Snow’s pants.”

“Excuse you, I didn’t just _try_ to get in Snow’s pants, I _got_ in Snow’s pants. Put some respect to my name, Dev.”

“Oh, of course, excuse me. You ignored your friends…”

“Who’ve been putting up with your shit for _years_ ,” Niall interrupts, sounding very dramatic about the whole thing.

“ _..._ just to get a taste of Chosen One cock,” Dev finishes. “Is that better?”

I’m so fucking grateful for these two.

**…**

**Simon**

“Uh, hello Mr Grimm,” I say as I open one of the back doors of the car.

“Hello Mr Snow. Please come to the front seat,” Baz’s dad answers.

I’m doomed, aren’t I?

Reluctantly, I obey. If I ever thought Baz was impressive, it’s nothing next to his father. I’m gonna shit my pants.

As I buckle my seatbelt, I ask “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you the one picking me up?”

Mr Grimm waits until I’m completely settled to start driving. He answers, looking at the road “I asked to. I wanted to talk to you before the Coven could question you.”

Why the fuck did he want to talk to me. Is he going to tell me to stay the hell away from his son? 

“Oh. Erm, why?”

“Are you going to let us use the truth spell on you?”

The fact that he just asked the question right away surprises me a bit, but the question in itself doesn’t. He’s probably trying to assess how the questioning, and therefore, the possible trial, will go. He will be one of the judges, after all.

“Yes. I have nothing to hide, I know what I’ve done and what I haven’t done.”

Mr Grimm glances at me, but before I can start to identify what was on his eyes as they were on me, they’re back on the road.

“Good. The Coven would very much like it if you were innocent as you claim, they don’t want their little Chosen One to be in trouble, so things should go smoothly for you. We might even free you before lunchtime, if you really cooperate.”

Well, I’m not sure about that, but I definitely can’t tell Mr Grimm about that. He’s the last person I want to tell this to. I already feel terrible enough knowing I’ll have to do this, to say this in front of him, but it’s the right thing to do. 

Instead of saying anything, I just nod. 

“Now that this is settled, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.”

Ah, I guess this time he’s going to tell me he wants to rip my head off for dating Baz.

“What is it?”

He shifts a little, his fingers tapping the wheel. He seems uncomfortable. Nervous, even. 

What the fuck.

“I don’t know what Basil has told you, but I do not… _disagree_ with this relationship the two of you have. Last weekend, when he was with you, Baz seemed more at ease and… happier than I’ve seen him in a very long time. He’s gone through very difficult times in the past few years but it seems to be getting better now, thanks to you. I’m grateful for that. You seem to be good for him, _very_ good. What I’m trying to say is that I trust you with my son, Mr Snow, and that I would very much appreciate not having to regret it.”

I feel my eyes go wide.

I thought Baz’s dad was much less ok than that with our relationship.

It’s a good thing, though. No, not a good thing. That’s bloody brilliant. Baz was so scared his father resented him, for having brought me home. He’s gonna be over the moon when I tell him.

“I… Thank you, Mr Grimm, really,” I answer, tripping my voice a bit more hesitant than usual. It’s intimidating, okay? _He’s_ intimidating. And it’s not every day the kind-of-homophobic-but-not-really father of your boyfriend tells you he _trusts you with his son._ “I promise I won’t break your trust. I… I love your son. All I want is to make him happy.”

I’m pretty sure I can see a smile tugging at his lips.

**…**

Before I know it, I’m sitting in a room with three people in front of me, including Baz’s dad. I didn’t ever think I’d ever see him as anything other than a threat, but right now, I’m fucking thankful for his presence. At least, it’s a familiar face, and I know he doesn’t hate me too much.

That’s more than I can say about the two other Coven members -an old man and a middle-aged woman. I have no idea who they are.

“Hello, Mr Snow,” the woman says. The tone of her voice is very formal. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“To answer questions about Emmeline Hale’s death.”

“Exactly. To make the process easier, we would like to use a truth spell on you. We would use The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It’s a spell that will not compel you to tell the truth but will inflict you physical pain if you hold it back. Do you accept the use of the spell on your person?”

It sounds much scarier than when Baz explained it, even though I know he said pretty much the same thing. I agree nonetheless. “Yes, I do.”

“Very well,” the old man says, taking his wand out.

He’s probably in charge of the spell because he has more experience than the two others. He points his wand at me, and pronounces the words clearly and loudly “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”. His magic feels like a buck of ice water just fell on me, which is not a great sensation _at all,_ I definitely prefer the fire of Baz’s, but apart from that, I don’t feel any different.

“Please decline your name and age,” Mr Grimm asks.

He’s the one sitting in front of me, the other Coven member on his sides. With some luck, he’ll be the one leading this questioning.

“Simon Snow, 18.” 

The spell doesn’t do anything to me when I say Simon Snow. 

That’s strange.

Either it didn’t work, which seems unlikely because I felt the man’s magic coursing through me, or Baz was right and Simon Snow is my name, even if it wasn’t necessarily the name I would have had if things had been different.

“Mr Snow, can you tell us what happened to Miss Emmeline Hale in September?”

So here we go, I guess.

I open my mouth, and I don’t close it until at least twenty minutes later, giving the Coven members all of the details I can think of about my mission and the day of her death. I don’t even think about what I’m saying, I just say it, like I’m only describing a story I see happening in my head. My voice trembles a lot, especially when I get to the part about her death, but I don’t stop until I’ve told them everything I know. I want the Mage punished as much as they probably do.

When I’m finally done with my rant, and I eventually come back to reality, I can feel that my cheeks are wet. I was so focused on _talking_ , that I didn’t realize I was crying. It’s a bit humiliating honestly to be crying in front of Coven members, in front of _Baz’s dad_ , but I’ll survive. 

As I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my jumper -Baz’s jumper, he’s going to murder me- they take a few seconds to whisper things I can’t make out to each other, before focusing back on me.

“Very well,” Mr Grimm says. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Snow. Considering the answers you gave us, and the fact that you gave them under the influence of a truth, the court finds you not guilty. Your declaration has been written down.” Has it? I didn’t see anyone write. But maybe there are people in the room or in rooms next to this one that I didn’t see. And I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings anyway. “so we will not need you to testify of anything during the Mage’s trial. The truth spell should have worn off, since you’ve told us everything, so you should be able to leave now.”

“Before I go,” I say, hoping Mr Grimm wasn’t going to add something else. “There’s something I need the court to be aware of. It concerns the Mage, but it has nothing to do with Miss Hale’s case.”

The three of them seem confused, though only their eyes are showing any kind of trouble. Their faces are perfectly emotionless. 

“And what is this ‘something’, Mr Snow?” the old man asks, sounding wary.

Fuck I just willingly snitched on the Mage to him and he’s still suspicious of me? What do these people need more to believe I’m not the Mage’s puppet.

I put my hand under my jumper, reaching for the notebook I tucked between my belt and the waistband of my trousers -Baz’s idea. It’s almost all Baz’s idea, except for the “exposing the Mage to the Coven” part.

“The Mage was behind the vampire attack on Watford that resulted in Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s death, and I have evidence that proves it.”

**…**

**Malcolm**

Natasha… 

No. 

That’s not possible.

That can’t be.

He can’t have…

He’s not that vile…

Or is he?

**…**

Shock washes over all of their faces as I put the notebook down on the table, open to show the double page that Baz bookmarked, where the Mage wrote the most incriminating things about the vampire attack.

“This is a notebook I found in the Mage’s office. I know it’s his, but I’m sure you could prove it with an identifying spell.”

Baz told me about those. They’re kind of like the DNA tests Normals use in cases, except they’re immediate, much more precise -they’ve only been wrong four times in the whole history of the World of Mages as we know it- and take magic print into account, on top of DNA. 

“I think we should do that, indeed,” the old man says, taking the notebook in his hands. Then, lower, at the other Coven members. “We’ve cast this spells on some of David’s belongings before, and it always worked perfectly, so if the kid isn’t lying, this should tell us that it’s his.”

Mr Grimm and the woman nod, and the man takes his wand again. He casts a bunch of spells I don’t know ; the only thing he says I recognize is the Mage’s name. David Evans. 

The moment the man shuts his mouth, the notebook starts glowing a faint shade of green.

“It’s his,” he says to the others, even though they can see the notebook, and probably understand the results by themselves. He looks up at me, his dark eyes pinning me to my chair with their intensity. “You said that in this, there is evidence that the Mage was involved in the vampire attack on Watford, in August 2002. Those are very serious accusations, Mr Snow.”

Crowley he really think I’m stupid. 

“I know. I also know that they’re well-founded. I have nothing to testify, only this piece of evidence,” I answer, pointing at the notebook. “But I think it’s enough. His words cannot be interpreted any other way, you can see for yourself.”

The Coven members look at each other, and they seem to decide that the woman should take the notebook.

Mr Grimm is almost as pale as Baz.

I feel incredibly bad for him, it’s so cruel to make him think of his ex-wife’s death, of the person _behind_ his ex-wife’s death, but the Mage has to pay for his crimes.

I see the woman’s eyes fly on the pages, a horrified expression growing on her face the more she reads. “The boy speaks the truth,” she says eventually, her voice quivering. It’s so different from how she was speaking to me at the beginning of my questioning and it makes me feel uneasy. I didn’t think the Coven members would be this troubled by the Mage’s writings. Mr Grimm maybe, because Headmistress Grimm-Pitch was his wife, but not the others. “It’s… It’s undeniable. And we know for sure that it belongs to David thanks to the identifying spell, he will have no way to pretend not to be guilty.” Then, she looks up at Mr Grimm, who looks like he’s about to faint. “Malcolm, I think maybe you should not be one of the judges, for this.”

“No. I will be. Coven rules are strict, a judge can’t step down from a trial unless it’s held by the High Court and it’s not what’s happening here. So I’m not stepping down. Besides, even legally, there’s no conflict of interest, Natasha isn’t my wife anymore. Our bond died with her.”

Baz explained this to me. When mages get married, they have a regular, Normal ceremony, but the one ceremony that’s very important is the magical union. It’s a ritual with which they bind their magics together until death parts them, breaking the bond. It’s why divorce isn’t exactly a thing in our world. 

“Malcolm…”

“I will be one of the judges,” Mr Grimm snaps, standing up from his chair.

His eyes are so dark when they fall on me, it sends a shiver down my spine.

“Thank you for this piece of evidence, Mr Snow. You’re free to go, your presence won’t be needed.”

“Malcolm, are you sure he shouldn’t stay?” the old man asks.

“What for? We have his confession written down, and the evidence he gave us doesn’t require for him to attend the trial. His presence, or absence, won’t change anything. All it’ll do is mess him up. The Mage is his bloody legal guardian don’t you think it’s hard enough for him telling us all of this? He doesn’t need to be there for the trial. Let the kid go. There have been too many children in this place recently,” Mr Grimm answers coldly.

He’s clearly referencing Baz’s trial, which efficiently shuts the two other Coven members up. 

I’m really surprised he’d defend me like that, but I’m very fucking glad he did. This place feels suffocating, I don’t know how much longer I could have stayed here without losing it.

“Come with me, Mr Snow,” he tells me, some anger still clear in his voice.

It’s definitely not the time to cross him, so I obey immediately, following him out of the room as I hear his colleagues whisper together.

He waits until we’re far enough from the room to stop walking. I see him take a few deep breaths, probably to make his anger more manageable, and then he speaks, his voice tinted with worry. “Does Basil know? That the Mage is involved in Natasha’s death, does he know?”

The question makes my heart clench. Baz is so convinced that his father doesn’t really care about him, it hurts to see how much Mr Grimm actually seems to care. I wish Baz could see that too. It’d be good for him, for the both of them.

“Yes,” I answer. “He was with me when I found out, but I… He’s fine, don’t worry. It was hard on him at first but he’s okay now. He’s… relieved that the Mage may pay for what he did.”

“It’s not that he may, Mr Snow, it’s that he will. I got glimpses of his writing in this notebook you gave us, and there’s really no denying that he was not only involved in Natasha’s death, but admitted to it with ink on paper. He will receive the judgment he deserves, for Miss Hale, but also for Natasha, be sure of it. You can stay here if you want while the trial happens. It might take some time, the trial will probably not start before late this evening for we have to call on the Coven to show them the new piece of evidence you provided us with, which reopens a case we thought solved for years, but it’s not forbidden for you to stay and watch. However, I thought it might be trying for you, which is why I gave you a way out. The choice is yours. You can call my son and be gone, or you can stay.”

I’m not staying in this bloody building one more minute.

“I’d rather go. But, uh, could you text Baz to tell him what happened with the Mage? The sentence he got when he’ll have received one? I’d like to know and I’m sure Baz would do.”

Mr Grimm nods. 

“I will, but you would have known soon either way. If the Mage is found guilty… The sentence that seems more likely considering his crimes is jail, a lifetime there, and if he goes to jail, the Coven will have to close Watford until we can find you a new Headmaster,” he explains.

So there _are_ jails for mages. Let’s pray the mage ends up in one, where he can’t hurt anyone for his stupid, arrogant plans anymore.

I simply nod, and then Mr Grimm is reaching inside his pocket for his phone. He unlocks it, looks for Baz’s contact, and hands it to me right after starting the call.

“Hello?” Baz’s voice say almost immediately. 

“Hey Baz. How do you feel about a little trip to London?”

**…**

I’m hugging him the moment he’s close enough to do so. He’s quick to hug me back, his strong arms closing around me as he props his chin on my head.

I usually don’t like it when he does that because I don’t like being reminded that I’m shorter than him, but right now, I like it.

“You did it, you beautiful nightmare,” he tells me, with something like pride in his voice.

“Hey, of course I did. You’re not the only competent one in this relationship, Basilton.”

“Are you sure about that?” I can’t see him but I’m sure he’s raising his stupid eyebrow. Bastard.

I ignore him. Instead of answering his teasing, I step back. 

Only now do I get to look at what Baz is wearing. He still hadn’t changed his clothes when I left, but now he’s wearing a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt under a grey jumper, and a long black coat. It’s a simple outfit but it looks so fucking elegant on him.

“Penny didn’t come with you,” I comment, surprised.

I really thought she would.

“She came to our room, and told me that she had considered coming but that she thought you’d rather have some time alone with me after this, and that she wouldn’t come and see you tonight, but that you’d better visit her tomorrow if you don’t want her to barge in our room again.”

I chuckle. “That does sound like Penny. So we have the rest of the day to ourselves?”

“Pretty much. Is there anything you want to do except not talking about what just happened at all, _please Baz, I really don’t want to think about it, but I’ll tell you later I promise_?” he says, making his voice exaggeratingly high when he mocks me, because he’s a prick like that. 

Merlin, he knows me so well.

“No, nothing apart from that,” I say, laughing softly.

That’s no true, I do have an idea. I want to hug him again. To put my head against his chest, listening to the two slow beats of his heart, as he keeps me close and twists my curls around his fingers, and I don’t want to move for his embrace for at least a century.

But we’re in the middle of London, so I suppose the cuddling will have to wait.

“And you, do you have any ideas?” I ask.

“Of course I do. I’m an organized man, I always have a plan,” he answers very seriously, like he’s talking about something very important and not just about us going on a date in London.

Oh my God, yes, this is a _date_ . Our _first_ date. It might be a bit better than cuddling and there are few things better than hugging Baz Pitch.

“Plotting,” I tell him, giving him my best suspicious glare.

It makes him smile.

“Yes, Snow, I’ve been plotting. Plotting to take you out to a restaurant. They do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all.”

“Come on, you’ve already found your way to my heart,” I tell him with a big, stupid grin and wink that make him roll his eyes. “But Baz… a restaurant? You don’t eat in public.”

“In some restaurants, you can get private rooms,” he explains, because of course he’s thought about that. He always thinks about _everything_. “We’ll just find one like that. That’s if you want to go to the restaurant, obviously.”

“Basil. In what universe would I say no to food, exactly?”

“In no universe, I knew it, that’s why I thought of that,” he says, sounding amused, as we start walking back to his car.

On the way, I hook my arm around his to be closer to him. I hope it doesn’t make him uncomfortable. I don’t know how he feels about that kind of stuff in public. I mean, he did let me hug him, but that was something else. It was to relieve all this stress about my audience with the judges of the Coven. 

He doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable, though. He tenses a bit, at first, but it doesn’t last long, and he gives me a sweet smile. 

When we get inside his car, I wait until he’s started driving to reach out and put my hand on his thigh. He tries to hide it, but I see his lips quirk at that.

“Don’t tell Penny that, but I’m glad you came without her, in the end. It’s great to be alone with you.”

He hums. “I am too. Glad that Bunce didn’t come, I mean. After everything that happened recently, I’m relieved to finally be able to spend time with you, only you, without having to worry about one of us being at risk of something.”

“It feels good not to be in imminent danger, doesn’t it?” I tell him with a smile. 

“It does.”

“It’s one of my favorite feelings in the world, but unfortunately it doesn’t usually last long with me. You should brace yourself for some problems to come soon.”

He glances at me, his eyes quickly going back to the road, before I see his left hand letting go of the wheel to fall on his thigh, right over mine.

Understanding what he’s doing, I turn my hand around so that our palms can touch and our fingers intertwine. 

Maybe I should scold him about driving with just one hand, but he’s the one with a driving license so I guess I’m going to shut up. Besides, I like the feeling of his hand on mine too much to be a prick about it.

Quickly after I joined our hands, he raises them up until he can kiss the back of mine. “I don’t care much about the problems that are to come as long as we’re together to face them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. Really, thank you.
> 
> I didn’t include the Mage’s judgment in the chapter because 1) I wanted this to end with Simon and Baz being happy together, not with that bastard 2) I’m terrible at writing this whole trial thing 3) he doesn’t deserve the attention anyway but if you’re curious, I am going to write another story that follows this one and it will answer some questions left unanswered  
> 


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